Too Late
by mossley
Summary: Completed. After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Saracentered, bit of GS at end
1. Because I could not stop for Death

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Chapter 1 - Because I could not stop for Death  
  
It was a scene every photographer dreamed of: A clear sky so blue it looked like the ocean. Early morning sunlight accentuating angles without washing out details. A soft breeze gently blowing a stray lock of hair from the face of a tall brunette with looks which suited a model.  
  
The blood flowing freely from the face of the crying child she cradled in her left arm. Her right arm wrapped protectively around a stunned boy with an obviously broken arm. A blood-soaked child on her left side holding onto the woman with a death grip. Behind them the multi-colored flames dancing from the twisted wreckage of a school bus and the tractor trailer which had collided with it.  
  
For freelance photographer Jim Hewitt it was a scene guaranteed to launch his career. He was more than a photojournalist; he was an artist. He recognized the emotional impact of the scene as he quickly finished off a roll of film and moved to reload his camera.  
  
There were dead kids on that burning bus; this story would go international. His shot would rank with baby Jessica being pulled from the well or the firefighter with the dead kid in Oklahoma. And he was the only photographer here. He grinned at his luck.  
  
It was just chance that he was on the scene minutes before the accident. That the woman who rushed to rescue the kids was going to photograph beautifully was a bonus. He'd be able to get his spare fixed now, maybe even switch to a professional digital camera with the money he'd make from these shots.  
  
While he loaded another roll of film into his camera, the paramedics ran to the woman and took the children for treatment. One tall, blondish EMT reached out to touch the woman on the shoulder. Hewitt recognized the anger in her face as she jerked away from him. He hoped she'd wait until he had his camera ready before decking the man. Instead, he backed off apologetically and she shrugged in reconciliation. Oh, well. Hewitt quickly moved to get photos of the injured kids being loaded in the ambulances, screaming adults in the crowds, the firefighters trying to extinguish the flames.  
  
'Life is good!' he cheerfully thought as he moved through the carnage.  
  
Later, he saw the tall woman talking with the sheriff and some people in overalls with 'Forensics' on the back. A police officer was taking her statements. After a few minutes, she walked over to her Tahoe - Hewitt hadn't noticed the flashing lights before - and drove off.  
  
Running to the sheriff, Hewitt hoped to get some additional details. Seeing the guarded look Brian Mobley gave him, the photographer poured on the honey. "Sheriff, want can you tell me about the woman," he nodded in the direction the Tahoe had gone, "who saved all of those children?"  
  
Mobley, recognizing a PR bonanza, smiled as he walked towards the photographer.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
It was just chance that Sara Sidle had been on that road as well. She was due at a seminar that afternoon and had left work on time so she could take a quick nap first. She was getting ready to turn off to her apartment when she noticed the truck lose control and crash into the bus. Training took in and she immediately hit her lights and called dispatch for backup as she pulled over.  
  
Running to the bus, she saw children rushing to the rear exit - the front end of the bus was destroyed. She helped the children down and told those who were mobile to run to the median and stay there. She handed injured children to other adults now running over to help. She could hear screams coming from within, and quickly climbed in to assess the situation. Sara never felt the frantic hands that tried to grab her jacket.  
  
The closest boy was in shock, holding his broken arm. She walked to him and led him to the back of the bus. She tried to ignore what he had been staring at; she couldn't tell if the bodies had been boys or girls. Across the aisle a young girl was frozen. She didn't appear injured, but was covered in blood. Sara decided it was probably arterial spray from the dead children in the seat beside her.  
  
Sara quickly pulled the child up and directed her to the back. The boy was still standing there. Where were all the other adults who had been helping her?  
  
Running towards the front of the bus, Sara tried to localize the cries. She found a small boy - was he even old enough to be in school? - crushed between his seat and the mangled front of the tractor. She gently rubbed his hand to comfort him, wondering how long until the rescue crew made it. He turned sad brown eyes to her and gave her a weak smile. "I'm sorry, Mommy," was the last thing he'd ever say.  
  
Sara's stomach wrenched. She was dizzy and felt like vomiting. Another small cry caught her attention. Bending down, Sara found the girl under a seat. She was bleeding heavily from multiple cuts to the head and upper body. 'Windshield shards,' her mind automatically categorized.  
  
Grabbing the small child, she lifted her carefully. She hoped the girl didn't have any spinal injuries, but Sara had seen the flames in the truck. There wasn't time to wait for the rescue crew. "Explains where everyone else went," she muttered.  
  
Running carefully to the back of the bus, Sara tried desperately to see if there were any more children still alive. Reaching the end of the bus without finding any more victims, she climbed down with the bleeding child. She reached up and pulled the boy with the broken arm down, wincing at his yelp of pain. When she pulled the frozen girl down she started to cry silently and wrapped her arms around Sara's waist. Sara wrapped her other arm around the boy and led them quickly to the approaching paramedics.  
  
She could feel the flames growing behind her. The small girl in her arm began to cry harder. Sara prayed she hadn't caused more injuries to these children.  
  
She felt a surge of relief when the paramedics came running over with backboards. Handing the children over, Sara shrugged Hank's concerned hand off of her shoulder. He had lost any right to be concerned about her. When he apologized and offered to get another EMT to check her out, she relented and insisted she wasn't hurt.  
  
A small explosion from the wreckage caused her to start. Sara's eyes filled with tears for the children she had been too late to save and their parents who wouldn't even have a body left to bury.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mommy."  
  
God, how many years would that give her nightmares?  
  
Giving herself a mental kick, Sara pushed that thought down. The sheriff had arrived along with the day shift from the Crime Lab. She had a job to do; she was a witness. Trying to remember any detail which would help explain this tragedy, Sara walked towards her co-workers.  
  
Sara never noticed the photographer gleefully snapping her pictures. Jim Hewitt would never know how lucky he'd been.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
While Sara quickly stripped out of her bloody clothes and deposited them in an evidence bag, Hewitt rushed through processing his film. By the time Sara had showered, changed and grabbed a quick meal, he had called his old college roommate who now worked with the Associated Press.  
  
Sara ignored her ringing phone as she rushed out of her apartment to head to the seminar. She grabbed a handful of CDs to listen to during the drive. Singing along with Blondie would help her ignore the scenes replaying in her mind.  
  
Hewitt arranged a lucrative deal with the AP for his photos and exclusive interviews. So far, he was the only one who knew the full story about what happened. Sara rechecked that she had turned off her pager and cell phone before entering the seminar.  
  
Various images of Sara spread via the wire service. She would be on the front page of every evening paper in the region. Web-based news sites had her image at the top of their pages. Sara meanwhile dutifully took notes on processing waterside crimes scenes - an ironic choice for a required course in Las Vegas.  
  
Sara pulled into a fast-food drive-thru for a quick dinner. She had progressed from Blondie to Pat Benatar. If she had remembered to turn her phone and pager back on, she'd would have had some warning about what awaited her at work.  
  
Entering the building, Sara was surprised by the number of people who greeted her warmly. She started when the receptionist called out for her to get her messages. The thick stack of paper surprised Sara. Shifting the bagged clothes she brought from home, she walked towards the break room and checked her cell phone. Then her pager. What the hell? People must have been calling her non-stop all day. Had something happened to her parents?  
  
"Well, our celebrity decided to show up," Catherine's laughing voice caused Sara to jerk her head up. She stopped in the doorway, mouth hanging open.  
  
"What is all this?"  
  
Every flat surface in the room was covered in flowers and baskets. Balloons danced around the ceilings.  
  
"Modest much?" teased Nick as he squeezed in between Sara and the door.  
  
"Yeah, how many marriage proposals were in there?" Warrick added.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about? What is all this?" Sara felt like she should be changing her name to Alice and chasing after rabbits full-time.  
  
"This." Grissom's voice caused her to turn around. He sounded like he was halfway between anger and pride.  
  
In his hands was the front page of the Las Vegas Sun. Her photo started just below the masthead and ran below the fold. The headline screamed "Rescued!" In smaller type, the subhead read: "LVPD CSI rushes burning bus to rescue kids".  
  
Barely making it into a chair, Sara snatched the paper from his hands. Before she could start reading, though, Archie called out, "Sara's on TV now!"  
  
"I'm what?"  
  
Catherine gestured to the wall-mounted TV while turning up the volume. Sara watched - mouth open again - as CNN splashed various still photos of her pulling kids out of the bus and the now-famous final shot. She barely noticed the glowing interviews from witnesses, greatly exaggerating in Sara's mind what she had done.  
  
"It wasn't on fire." Looking around, she saw her friends looking at her doubtfully. "The bus wasn't on fire. Not when I got on. I heard the kids crying, they wouldn't come out." She looked around again. "Guys, I did not go running into a burning bus. I ran out as soon as I saw the truck was burning and there weren't any more kids who were still..."  
  
"It's okay, Sara. People need heroes. It's natural they would color the true story," Grissom said with a smile. He was pleased to hear her side of this; the thought of Sara rushing into a suicidal situation had upset him. There was a thin line between bravery and stupidity and she hadn't crossed it today.  
  
"Yeah, girl, we all know how reliable witness can be," Warrick added with a grin. "So, how many marriage proposals? I know that big bouquet of roses over there had one."  
  
"God, tell me you are joking? Please? These can't all be for me," Sara said.  
  
"What's the matter, Sara? You prefer plants?" Catherine joked, deliberating avoiding Grissom's glare.  
  
"There's more in the Sheriff's office. You may want to send them over to a nursing home or the hospital. Let the patients enjoy them," Grissom suggested.  
  
"More? Who's sending me this stuff?" Sara sat in shock. In one day she had received - by several orders of magnitude - more flowers than previously in her entire life. Did she even know any of these people?  
  
"That's a good idea, Grissom," she finally said. "Let me get the cards so I know who to send thank you notes to," pausing at the laughter greeting her.  
  
"Sar, people sent those to you as a 'thank you'. I don't think you have to thank them back," Nick teased.  
  
Sara tried to crash her head onto the table, but a singing teddy bear cushioned her blow. This was going to be a long shift.  
  
"Wanna a friend for Billy?" Sara slammed the bear into Grissom's chest, trying to ignore the laughter.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mommy." Dark eyes which would never see again haunted her.  
  
TBC 


	2. I like a look of agony

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Chapter 2 - I like a look of agony  
  
"It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it?"  
  
Sara snapped her head off the table when she heard the sheriff's voice calling from the doorway.  
  
"Sheriff, those stories, I never ran into a burning bus. Really. They've got the story all wrong."  
  
"Sara, it's all right. You'll have your chance to tell your side of the story at the press conference," he held up his hands to prevent her from interrupting. "Trust me, Sara, it'll be easier than you think. And the sooner you talk, the sooner they'll go away."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"The media," said Mobley kindly. "Right now the parking lot is filling up with news crews. We neglected to mention how early you come in before shift so you wouldn't have to deal with them."  
  
"Oh, god."  
  
"If you want to wait until tomorrow to talk to them, that'll be fine, Sara. We'll be having an official press conference then. Did you get my message?"  
  
"I have no idea," she replied honestly, pointing to the stack of messages in front of her. "My pager and phone are backlogged with messages too. I was at a seminar all afternoon," she offered as explanation.  
  
Mobley smiled at her. He always welcomed good publicity for the lab, but frankly he'd been unprepared for the sheer impact those photographs were having. Sara had had no advanced warning she was going to become a celebrity. Mobley knew it would be disconcerting for the unassuming and sensitive scientist. Especially since her fame came at the expense of eight young children.  
  
"Sara, I realize this is overwhelming right now. But you did rescue a group of children and the people of Nevada want to thank you. The governor's office and the mayor both have awards for you. In addition, you'll be receiving a departmental citation for bravery. I believe the Fraternal Order of Police are planning an award as well.  
  
"We're still working out the details, but it will be one simple ceremony. We didn't think you'd want to be dragged before multiple events. The whole lab will be invited," the sheriff addressed her fellow CSIs.  
  
"I know this is hard on you, Sara, and I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to talk to the media. But if you avoid them, they'll hound you until they get what they want. Spend one afternoon answering their questions and they'll leave you alone."  
  
Talk to the press? About a dying boy who mistook her for his mother? About the blood soaking the seats and dripping from the ceilings? They wanted her to celebrate that?  
  
She shivered as the image of a sad smile flashed in her mind.  
  
"Brian, let's get back to you on this. Let Sara have a chance to decide what she wants to do," Grissom said, trying to discreetly hand Sara the teddy bear.  
  
"Of course, Gil. Sara, trust me. It'll all die down in a few days," he gave her another kind smile. "What are you planning to do with all of this?" He indicated the overabundance of gifts.  
  
"Grissom suggested sending them to a nursing home or hospital."  
  
"Good idea," he said, nodding towards Grissom. "Tell you what, Sara. Why don't you stay in the lab and sort through all this and decide what you want to keep. I'll arrange for a van and some uniforms to disperse the rest. I have a feeling the reporters will just try to follow you if you go out on a case. You don't need the distraction. I'm sure some of those messages are from friends and colleagues. Go ahead and answer them."  
  
"I, okay, Sheriff," Sara said. She didn't want to spend the night in the office sorting through this. She wanted to bury herself in a case so she could forget this. But she couldn't face the press now.  
  
"One last thing, Sara. You need to see Dr. Kane. It's departmental policy, nothing to worry about. Philip will be expecting to hear from you soon."  
  
Sara nodded.  
  
"Gil, can I have a word with you?" Mobley asked as he left the break room.  
  
Nick knelt beside Sara and draped his arm across the back of her chair. "He's right, Sara. You avoid the press and they'll think you're hiding something. Just get it over with and they'll leave you alone."  
  
"It won't be so bad, Sara. Those reporters will eat you up; they already are. They'll ask a bunch of dumb questions about how it felt, then they'll go away," Catherine told her, setting a cup of coffee in front of her.  
  
"Thanks. I can't believe this is happening."  
  
Warrick leaned against the counter, watching Sara carefully. He didn't like the direction his thoughts were heading.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"Brian, I won't allow you to use Sara as a publicity gimmick," Grissom said as soon as he closed the door to Mobley's office.  
  
"I have no intention of doing so, Gil. In fact, I want to keep her away from the media as much as possible."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Believe it or not, Gil, I value Sara's contribution to this department as a CSI more than a PR piece," he said firmly. "I admit, I like good publicity, but this is beyond anything I've ever seen. We've had calls from all the major media outlets wanting background information on Sara. The news magazines want interviews. There have been two Hollywood producers calling. And that's just here at the lab. I can't imagine what it's like at her home," the sheriff said.  
  
"I'm worried about her, Gil. You know her better than I do. What will this do to her?"  
  
"I honestly don't know, Brian. Sara is a very private person. She doesn't like being the center of attention. She won't want any personal information released."  
  
"What about the accident itself?"  
  
"What about it, Brian?"  
  
"Gil, Sara can become very emotional. I believe you've used the term 'empathic' to describe her reactions. We both know what the inside of that bus must have looked like," Mobley said softly. "Do you think she'd be willing to take a vacation after the press conference? If she wasn't around, they would move on to the next big story."  
  
"I don't know. I doubt it, Brian. Sara turns to work when something is bothering her," Grissom eventually said.  
  
"Make the offer. The department will authorize a one-week leave with pay. She won't even have to use her vacation time."  
  
"That's a very generous offer, Brian," Grissom eventually replied. He eyed the sheriff carefully. The departmental budgets were stretched currently. Why would they make this offer?  
  
"Gil, make sure she sees Philip. Do you know what her solve-rate is? It's the highest in the department and she has a higher ratio of harder-to-solve cases. The lab can't afford to lose her," Mobley said. Was that an odd inflection on 'lose'? "Burnout after something like this is too common, Gil. Keep an eye on her."  
  
Grissom headed to the break room, considering what Mobley had said. He felt there was more behind Brian's comments than he let on. He had mentioned Sara's emotions; maybe he was just afraid she'd lose her temper at a press conference.  
  
He stopped when he came into the room. All of his CSIs were helping Sara sort out packages. They had moved all the food items onto the table, and were fishing out stuffed animals, cards and other assorted gifts from the flowers.  
  
"Why are you all still here?"  
  
"Gil, you never gave out the assignments," Catherine said, pointing to the papers in his hand.  
  
Shaking his head, Grissom quickly called out assignments. "Nick and Warrick, head over to Henderson. Missing person - husband never came back after an argument with his wife. Catherine you get a robbery at a liquor store. Go."  
  
He watched Sara. She seemed distracted. Her hands were running hesitantly over some of the stuffed animals. Quickly, Sara wrapped her arms around herself when another shiver racked her body.  
  
"Sara, why don't you use my office to store the things you want to keep," he said softly, pointing to the assorted flora and plush fauna.  
  
"I don't think I'm keeping any of it, Grissom. Doesn't seem right to keep some of it and not the rest. I've told everyone to help themselves to anything they want. Catherine's taking some of the animals for Lindsay," she said, picking up one of the toys that had been set aside. "Here. I was serious. Give Billy a friend," she handed him the purple singing teddy bear. She gave him an odd smile.  
  
He returned her smile and took the bear. "Sara, Brian wanted me to tell you that you can have a week off if you want to skip town and avoid the press," he said, trying to keep the mood light. "You won't even have to use vacation."  
  
"Oh. I, I don't think I want to do that, Griss. Can I get back to you, though? Let's see what happens with the damn vultures."  
  
Grissom looked at her carefully as she started looking through messages, arranging them into piles. The way she said 'vultures' surprised him; he didn't think she was joking.  
  
"I'll be in the morgue, Sara. Call me if you need anything, okay?"  
  
She turned and raised a surprised eyebrow at him. It morphed into a small smile. "Thanks, Griss. Tell Doc and David to come up if they want something to eat," she nodded to the assortment of foods on the table.  
  
"Okay, Sara," he said. Heading down the hallway, he saw a very agitated Sgt. O'Riley approaching with a folded newspaper.  
  
"Hey, Grissom! Have you seen Sara?"  
  
"She's in the break room, O'Riley. Why?"  
  
"Need to talk to her," came his brusque reply as he walked quickly away.  
  
Grissom started to walk down the hallway, but reconsidered.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
In the break room, Sara leaned over the table, surveying the stacks of messages neatly arranged by whether she knew the caller. Her hands were wrapped around a hot cup of coffee, and she enjoyed the delicious smell reaching her nose.  
  
"Sara."  
  
She looked up to see an unusually emotional O'Riley in the doorway.  
  
"Hey, O'Riley, what's up? What something to eat?"  
  
The police sergeant walked stiffly to her, holding out the newspaper. It was a photo of Sara lifting a crying girl into the arms of a priest. Sara looked at the photo as if it was of someone else.  
  
The child had been walking slowly towards the rear of the bus, crying loudly. Other children brushed past her in their hurry to get out. Sara had reached up to quickly pull her to safety before she was accidently trampled. The elderly man - a member of the clergy - held his arms out to her. Sara lifted the child into his arms, reaching over to brush tears from the girl's face.  
  
Children were crying. People were screaming. The smell of spilled fuel filled the air, but couldn't cover the smell of death coming from the bus.  
  
Sara closed her eyes at the flashback.  
  
"That's my niece," he finally blurted. "Just got back from the hospital. They had to operate. She's got internal bleeding. Broken ribs."  
  
Sara turned startled eyes to the big detective. The rib cage: designed to protect the internal organs from injuries. But when broken, the bones became daggers pointing towards the delicate tissues. All it took was a rough movement, too hard of a squeeze, and the results could be fatal.  
  
"Oh, god. I'm so sorry," she whispered. What had she done to that poor child?  
  
"She's gonna be okay," the detective sniffed, not noticing how pale Sara was becoming. "She's my baby sister's only kid," he choked. "Damn"  
  
The burly man wrapped his arms around Sara and buried his face in her neck. "God, thank you, Sara. Thank you." He quickly kissed her, before running out of the room, wiping away his tears.  
  
Sara sank into her chair. She reached out for her coffee. It had cooled to blood temperature. The bitter liquid carried the acrid taste of copper.  
  
TBC 


	3. I've seen a dying eye

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 3 - I've seen a dying eye  
  
Grissom watched as Sara sank into the chair. He had recognized the pain in her voice and correctly guessed that she blamed herself for the little girl's injuries. He hoped O'Riley's emotional thanks would have convinced her of the folly of this, but that didn't seem to have happened. When it looked like she would gag on her coffee, he moved quickly to her side. Kneeling beside her, he placed a gentle hand on her back. "Sara?"  
  
"God, Grissom, I didn't think! I could have killed her. She still might..."  
  
"Stop it, Sara! You didn't do anything wrong," he said firmly. "Your accident scene wasn't safe. You had to clear the injured immediately." Seeing this wasn't calming her, he lowered his voice. "Hey. Sara, she's alive. If you had waited for the rescue squad, she would have died. You did good."  
  
He stayed by her side as she fought to bring her breathing under control. Shifting into a more comfortable position, he accidently activated the singing bear he still held. Both jumped when an electronic voice belted out "You Are My Sunshine".  
  
Sara was the first to let out an embarrassed laugh. "Thanks, Grissom," she said, getting up to throw the remainder of her coffee away. "Guess I should go clear out my e-mail before it crashes the server," she joked. Grissom noticed the humor didn't carry to her voice.  
  
He escorted her to the A/V lab, his hand still resting on her back. He continued to his office, placing the plush nuisance on a top shelf where it would never be activated again. And people thought his singing bass was annoying. Why had Sara been insistent that he take the thing?  
  
Stepping over to his desk, he pulled a card from his Rolodex. He would need to call Philip Kane in the morning. Grissom intended to take Mobley's instruction to watch Sara seriously. He just had no idea what he should be looking for. The scene in the break room had made him uneasy. Was that a normal reaction?  
  
He stopped by the lab where she was scrolling through screens of text and silently observed her for a moment before continuing his trip to the morgue. If he had stayed a minute longer, he would have noticed her wiping away tears.  
  
Sara had found the obituaries of the eight children who she hadn't helped that morning.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Despite a statement from Mobley and a press conference scheduled for that afternoon, many of the media refused to leave the night before. They knew Sara was inside and wanted to be the first to catch her image or a quote. As the sun rose, more and more reporters and gawkers started to gather outside the building.  
  
"God, would you look at that," Catherine said to Grissom. "I swung by Sara's apartment building last night on the way back to the lab. You couldn't get near it. How are we going to get her out of here? She doesn't need this shit."  
  
"Could she stay at your place? Until the press conference?"  
  
"Sure, Gil. But we still have to get her out. She'll need to go home for a change of clothes, too. And no, I don't have anything she can borrow. She's too tall," Catherine said, thinking the problem through. "I could go to her apartment, but they'll probably follow me back to my place."  
  
Suddenly Grissom smirked. "I'll take care of it. Find the guys and see if they want to take a road trip," he said as he punched a number into his cell phone. "David? Grissom. We need your help."  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Carrying a large sports bag, Catherine barreled through the throngs in the parking lot, refusing to answer any questions. Getting into her car, she saw the crowds move in the other direction as a group exited the front of the lab.  
  
Grissom led the way, with Warrick and Nick on either side of the woman who was suddenly the focus of scores of cameras. Her lowered head was covered by a department-issued cap and sunglasses covered her eyes in an attempt to give her a thin shield of privacy. Two uniformed officers plowed ahead to clear a path to one of the Tahoes.  
  
The crowd swarmed forward, screaming questions, jostling for better camera angles. Nick and Warrick wrapped protective arms around their friend, trying to isolate her from the jungle of outstretched arms, microphones and cameras.  
  
Grissom tried to distract the media by promising Sara would answer questions that afternoon. Meanwhile, Nick and Warrick herded their charge into the back of the SUV, and cautiously exited the parking lot. A number of cars and vans with satellite dishes followed.  
  
Once his employees were out of the parking lot, Grissom headed to his own Tahoe, ignoring the questions now directed his way. He pulled into traffic and drove down North Trop Blvd until he was certain no one had followed him.  
  
Inside the first SUV, the woman started to remove her covering, but Nick stopped her. "Leave that on for a bit longer. Let's enjoy this."  
  
"Okay, but turn on the air conditioner, Warrick. If I have to stay in this jacket, I'll melt before we get to Lake Mead."  
  
"No problem, Leah," he flashed the lab tech a brief grin in the mirror. "Thanks for helping out."  
  
He drove slowly towards the recreation area, while Nick questioned the lab tech about her latest tattoo. They wanted the hounds to follow them, but he didn't want to cause an accident. Not that he would mind if his friend was spared this assault on her privacy, but Sara didn't need any guilt from this. No, that was the last thing she needed.  
  
He wondered if he should tell the others his concerns as he continued to drive slowly.  
  
Meanwhile, Catherine made her way into Sara's apartment. An officer remained at the front entrance to keep non-residents out of the building. Moving quickly into the bedroom, Catherine gathered several changes of clothes before grabbing personal items from the bathroom. She spent a few minutes carefully sorting and packaging the items. As she left the building, a number of reporters followed her, only to be disappointed she went back to the crime lab.  
  
Catherine reached into the bag sitting on the floor of the SUV and pulled out the second bag which had been inside of it. Shifting the contents to make it look full, she took it into the building, leaving it in her locker. When she left the second time it was without a media escort.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Unnoticed by the horde, the coroner's van had exited the garage.  
  
"Are you comfortable back there?"  
  
"David, I hope that's not a question you ask often," Sara said.  
  
"Oh, asking isn't a problem. It's when I get answers that I worry," he said. She laughed at the unexpected joke from the coroner's assistant.  
  
A few minutes later they pulled into an alleyway off of the main strip and walked into a small diner. They quickly moved to the rear booth, Sara sitting with her back to the rest of the room. An uneasy silence settled over the table after they ordered coffee.  
  
"When I was little, my dad was stationed at Dover," David said eventually. "It's not a big city, but during the summer a lot of beach traffic comes through town. One day, we were playing catch, and the ball went across the street. My friend, Tommy, ran out to get it. He never saw the car coming."  
  
The waitress set their mugs on the table, giving Sara a quick smile. "On the house."  
  
"Thanks," came out automatically.  
  
"I saw the whole thing," David continued. "Tommy was okay, eventually. But it was rough, watching that. I had nightmares for a long time."  
  
"How old were you?" Sara asked quietly.  
  
"Seven, almost eight," he replied, watching Sara close her eyes. "Anyway, uhm, well, since then I've seen the results of a lot worse. But, it's not the same. I mean, seeing the aftermath and seeing the event. You can detach yourself when you're not involved. But being there, being a part of it, you can't separate it. That's normal. I, I'm not explaining this very well."  
  
When Sara looked up at him, she gave him a small smile. "Actually, you did, David. I'm glad you understand. It's so weird. I," she paused, eventually giving her head a small shake. "I guess it's all just starting to catch up to me. There wasn't time to think about it while it was going on."  
  
"I understand. Well, as much as someone who wasn't there can. Uhm, if you need to talk to someone, you know, if this bothers you," he stammered.  
  
"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind. You're a good friend, David," she said, squeezing his hand. She smiled sweetly at the blush creeping up the shy man's face.  
  
"Hope we're not interrupting anything," Catherine's voice teased as she slid in beside Sara. David's blush grew deeper when Grissom sat next to him, giving him a pointed stare. Sara gave her boss a stare in return as she withdrew her hand.  
  
A small smile played on Grissom's face: Sara was in a better mood. He didn't know what David had done, but if it got Sara to smile he wouldn't browbeat the younger man. He even paid for the group's breakfast. Maybe he had read too much into Sara's earlier mood.  
  
Maybe.  
  
He had forgotten to call Philip. Well, a few hours couldn't make a difference.  
  
As the friends split up, Grissom pulled Catherine to the side. "Give me a call if anything comes up," he whispered. Giving her friend a nod, she walked to the SUV where Sara waited. The ride to the house was quiet. The rouse had worked; no one had tracked Sara down.  
  
"Thanks, Cath, I appreciate all this. I really didn't want to face that mob," she said as she sat on the couch.  
  
"No, prob, kiddo. You know, you don't have to go this afternoon? If it bothers you that much."  
  
"I know, but I just want this to be over. You guys were right. They'll go away once they get what they want," she said not trying to hide the venom in her voice. "I hate them."  
  
Catherine gave Sara a quizzical look, but the younger woman didn't elaborate.  
  
"Look, Sara, go take a nap. I'll get you up in time to get ready for the conference. I left your pajamas and some clothes for you to wear later in Lindsay's room," she pointed to a door in the hallway.  
  
"Thanks, Cath."  
  
The blonde watched as Sara paused at Lindsay's doorway. A sad smile crossed her face as she gently brushed her fingers over the artwork covering the door before entering the room.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
The flat-bed trailer was carrying building supplies and driving far above the speed limit. As it lost control, the load shifted and burst its restraining straps. Stacks of steel rebar crashed into the side of the bus. Tempered windshield shattered under the force of the multiple collisions, sending a rain of glass pellets into the interior. The metal bars tore through the thin, yellow skin of the bus, and continued inwards.  
  
The impact briefly lifted the bus onto its side wheels, sending the children flying to the far wall. As the bus crashed back down, the children were tossed into the spray of glass and metal. Loose items had become projectiles. Book bags, lunch boxes, human bodies all were tossed among the shrapnel.  
  
The interior of the bus resembled an explosion aftermath. Blood from arterial spray coated the walls, the seats, dripped from the ceiling. The floors alternated between sticky and slippery.  
  
Flames were dancing in the engine compartment of the trailer. The distinctive smell of diesel competed with the metallic smell of blood. The bus would soon become an inferno. She knew she had to get out immediately.  
  
Sara ran down the aisle, desperately trying to find other survivors, trying not to slip or trip on human remains. Reaching the end of the bus, she quickly pulled the children down. She took a last look inside the remains of the bus.  
  
Soft brown eyes locked on hers. He reached out desperately.  
  
"Help me," he cried. "Mommy!"  
  
Chapter 4 


	4. I lost a world the other day

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 4 - I lost a world the other day  
  
Sara jolted upright in the bed, sweat rolling down her body. She took several ragged breaths before climbing out of Lindsay's bed and stripping out of her pajamas. Slipping into her robe, she opened the bedroom door and headed into the hallway. All was quiet. Good. She didn't want Catherine asking questions.  
  
A few moments later, she was standing under the hot spray of the shower, washing away the remnants of the nightmare. She let the warm water massage her tense muscles, trying to relax and control her breathing.  
  
Sara started to sing softly. Anyone listening would have found the scene bizarre. The tune was Gilbert and Sullivan's "I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major-General" but the lyrics had been replaced by the ordered listing of elements from the periodic table. A drunk classmate at Harvard had discovered the words fit perfectly into the song and it quickly became a hit in the physical sciences building.  
  
Sara always found the tune to be oddly relaxing, although she had never needed the mnemonic device. She had a photographic memory which allowed her to clearly recall information long after viewing.  
  
She could describe the evening she had seen her first meteor shower, down to the salty smell of the ocean breeze to the clothes her father was wearing as he held her in his lap in a beat-up lawn chair. She remembered the feel of her first kiss, from her shaking knees to Ronny's nervous twitching to the slight taste of chocolate on his lips. She could list the seven kingdoms of the English heptarchy without thought; quote mathematical theorems flawlessly; recognize the smell of human viscera with frightening accuracy.  
  
Combined with her attention to detail, it served her well as a crime scene investigator.  
  
Throw in her empathy, and it gave her incredibly vivid nightmares.  
  
She shuddered at the memory of the pleading voice and the haunted look in his eyes. The boy died. He thought she was his mother. She was holding him when it happened. She hadn't left him to die alone in the burning bus.  
  
Had she?  
  
Giving herself a shake, she pushed that thought down. "No, dammit, he was already dead. I was too late," she swore softly, turning off the shower. She leaned her head against her arms resting against the front wall. When would this end?  
  
A drop of warm water fell from the shower and landed on her shoulder. Drops of still-warm blood had been falling from the ceiling.  
  
"Damn!" Grabbing the washcloth, she frantically scrubbed her shoulder where the water had hit.  
  
She hated nightmares. They always left her edgy.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Back in the lab, Warrick scrolled through another screen of information. He had returned to the lab after taking Nick and Leah to Lake Mead - the press which had followed them weren't amused when they saw the tattooed lab tech instead of Sara. Warrick didn't really care that they were upset.  
  
Nick and Leah had gone home after they returned to the lab, but Warrick stayed behind to do some research. He had hoped to reassure himself. Instead, each additional piece of information made him more nervous. Picking up another article from the printer, he added it to the thick pile of paper.  
  
He checked the time. If he hurried, he'd have time to shower and change before the news conference. He didn't plan on talking to any of the reporters hassling his friend, but he would be there as moral support.  
  
Sara was going to need it.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Leaving the bathroom, Sara noticed the smell of coffee. Following the aroma, she ended up in the kitchen. Catherine leaned against the counter, cradling a steaming cup in her hands.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey. Wanna cup?"  
  
"Sure, thanks," Sara answered, wandering over to take the coffee.  
  
"Real bitch, aren't they," Catherine said, giving her colleague a sympathetic look. "I hate nightmares."  
  
"Sorry, Cath, didn't mean to wake you up," she said apologetically.  
  
"No problem. It was about time to get up anyway. You done with the water? Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes. Help yourself," Catherine said, nodding towards the refrigerator. She gave Sara's shoulder a gentle squeeze on the way out.  
  
Catherine quickly showered and dressed. Normally, she liked to linger in the shower, especially when she didn't get enough sleep. But Grissom was on his way over and she wanted to be ready when he got there. She had called him as soon as she had heard the water start. Sara's nightmare must have been intense; the scream she let out was enough to wake the dead.  
  
The older woman wasn't surprised. She couldn't imagine how she would have reacted in Sara's place. She had been to enough accident scenes to know what Sara must have faced. Catherine shuddered at the thought. If thinking about it was uncomfortable, what was it like to have gone through it?  
  
Catherine had heard about the accident on the way home from work, grateful that Lindsay's bus went nowhere near that area. When she watched the evening news that night, she found herself staring transfixed at the still images of Sara and the children.  
  
For a woman who insisted she wasn't good with children, Sara was a natural.  
  
The tender expression on her face as she handed over injured children, gently wiping away tears showed clearly in the photographs. Catherine remembered how well she had handled Lindsay after Eddie's death, feeling guilty for the abuse she'd heaped on the younger woman. She had never apologized to Sara.  
  
The woman in question was still in her robe, standing before a shelf of photos of Lindsay, Catherine, Eddie, friends and other family members. Sara didn't look up as she picked up a photo - Catherine's favorite - showing the mother and daughter in a hug. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are?" Sara's voice was very soft.  
  
"Thank God every day."  
  
"Good. Don't stop," she said, giving herself a shake. "I'm going to get dressed."  
  
Catherine watched her carefully, hoping Grissom would hurry up. He wasn't the greatest when it came to social skills, but Sara was closer to him than anyone else on the team. Even if they didn't talk, she'd feel better with him there.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Sara slowly changed into the outfit Catherine had picked out. It was a pair of black slacks and a sleeveless dove gray shirt. It was a good choice: dressier than the jeans and T-shirt Sara usually wore but still casual enough for her to be comfortable in.  
  
By the time she had dressed, applied her sparse makeup and brushed out her hair, Grissom had arrived. Sara regarded him in surprise. He was wearing a grey suit with an open black shirt. He seemed to be very nervous.  
  
"Grissom? Why are you here?"  
  
"Didn't think I'd let you face the 'vultures' alone, did you? Figured I offer you a lift to the conference," he said in a light tone. His body language didn't match his voice.  
  
"Really?" Sara turned to Catherine, raising an eyebrow as she glared at the blonde. Catherine looked back innocently.  
  
"Did you eat? Want to grab something on the way over? We still have enough time for a quick stop before the conference," Grissom asked.  
  
"I'm fine; we can stop if you want something."  
  
He nodded and escorted her out the door.  
  
"Thanks, Cath. I really appreciate this," Sara called out. Her inflection wasn't lost on Catherine, who just smiled sweetly at her. Sara may be embarrassed that she told Grissom about her nightmare, but Catherine was certain the younger woman would rather be with her former mentor than anyone else right now.  
  
Wouldn't she?  
  
It was so hard to tell what was going on with those two. They went from hot to cold, close to distant so quickly Catherine usually felt she was watching an emotional tennis match.  
  
"Hold on, guys! I'm going with you!" Pulling out her cell phone, she quickly called her sister to stay with Lindsay for a little while after school.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
The restaurant was in a quiet residential area of the city and rarely saw tourists. Grissom and Catherine ordered sandwiches while Sara stuck with coffee. Both tried passing off their pickles and chips to Sara, who eventually ate something so they'd leave her alone.  
  
Grissom was nervous. When Catherine had called, she only said that Sara had had 'a hell of a nightmare' and for him to get there quickly. There wasn't time for the two to talk before Sara reentered the living room.  
  
Now, he tried to gauge Sara's current condition. She wasn't eating, but that wasn't surprising. No one could accuse Sara of having a normal eating schedule. She seemed fine, if a bit tense. Well, she had made it clear she didn't want to talk to the press, so it would be natural she'd be feeling a bit stressed now.  
  
"Sara, don't be nervous. You'll do fine," he said, giving her a gentle smile. "Don't feel like you have to answer any questions. If something's too personal, just tell them so."  
  
She just made a noncommittal shrug. "Like they'd settle for that," she muttered.  
  
"You really don't like the media, do you?" Catherine asked in surprise. She'd never noticed this about Sara before.  
  
"What's to like?"  
  
Grissom and Catherine exchanged worried glances. Maybe taking her to a press conference in her current mood wasn't a good idea. Catching the looks the two were sharing, Sara tossed her arms up in frustration. "Guys, I'm not going to go postal! I didn't even bring my gun!"  
  
Her loud exclamation carried through the still restaurant. The startled looks the nearby patrons threw their way caused Sara to blush. When people started pointing and whispering, she slid down in her chair and bowed her head.  
  
"Sara, are you okay?"  
  
"Practicing to become a journalist, Grissom?" Sara didn't care how harsh her voice sounded. After a few silent moments, she shrugged and leaned forward on the table. She saw the hurt in his eyes.  
  
"That's the type of stupid questions they are going to be asking me, Grissom. How do you answer something like that? 'Fine, thanks. I just watched a busload of kids have their lives ruined. And you?'  
  
"I meant what I said earlier. They are vultures. Death makes them excited. They're happy those kids died," she said quietly. "They don't care what this is doing to the families of the kid's who died. They don't care about the kids still in the hospital. All they care about is this will get them ratings. Which will get them more money. It's sick."  
  
Neither of her friends knew what to say. It wasn't as if they disagreed with her assessment of the situation, even if she was perhaps overly harsh.  
  
"That photographer was there the whole time, guys," Sara finally added. The pain in her voice was clear. "He could have helped, but he took photos instead. Those kids were hurt and scared and needed help. He exploited them instead. What kind of bastard does that? And those other 'vultures' - they admire him. They wish they had been there instead of him. They're dreaming of the day when a tragedy happens so they can cash in on it.  
  
"I want them out of my life. I don't want to have to hide, or ride around in the coroner's van. I just want to get this whole thing behind me," Sara said softly. "I just want to forget this ever happened. And they are going to keep harping on me to relive it over and over so they exploit it. I just want my life back."  
  
The group looked up as the wait staff came over with a cake topped by flaming candles. After explaining it was compliments of the house, they started singing "For She's A Jolly Good Fellow" while the other patrons started clapping.  
  
Sara hung her head, so they wouldn't see her tears.  
  
Grissom and Catherine exchanged concerned glances, uncertain over how to help their friend.  
  
TBC 


	5. Look back on time with kindly eyes

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 5 - Look back on time with kindly eyes  
  
All things considered, the news conference went surprisingly well. For all her animosity towards the press, Sara retained her professionalism. Not only would it reflect poorly on the lab for her to show her personal disgust, but the sheriff's office needed to maintain a working relationship with the local media.  
  
A bank of microphones had been set up in a courtyard behind the building. The media was strictly limited to that area so Sara could enter the lab unmolested. Sheriff Mobley made it clear there would be no tolerance for a repeat of the scene that happened that morning. Grissom, Catherine, lab director Carvallo and Warrick stood beside Sara to offer support. A number of lab techs and police officers stood nearby.  
  
Mobley started the conference with a run-down of the known facts: eight children and both drivers had been killed during the crash; five children were still in the hospital and were all expected to recover completely; initial analysis showed the truck driver had been speeding, but it was unclear what role that played in the accident; the driver did have a record for drunk driving, but his last arrest had been more than nine years ago and according to friends and family he had been sober for more than five years; both the bus and truck had passed safety inspections recently.  
  
The sheriff went on to explain the awards which would be presented to Sara during a ceremony to be held in the Renoir Ballroom at Bellagio's on Friday morning. Additional questions could be asked at that time.  
  
Next, Sara gave a brief statement as to what had happened. She made sure to emphasize the fact the fire had not reached the bus while she was onboard and to point out a number of bystanders had also helped with the rescue. Mobley picked reporters to ask questions, keeping a close eye on Sara making sure she wasn't overwhelmed. Grissom moved in to stand behind her.  
  
True to her predictions, the initial questions dealt with how it felt. She kept her answers short but polite: her sympathies went out to the families of those lost and injured and asked that their privacy be respected. She hoped she'd never be faced with a similar situation, but if she were, she'd repeat her actions.  
  
Questions moved to more personal matters: marital status, how long had she been in Las Vegas, where did she work before, did she have children.  
  
It was Lynda Darby, a reporter from the Las Vegas Tribune, who addressed the first question away from Sara. "Dr. Grissom, you brought Ms. Sidle in from San Francisco to investigate the shooting and subsequent death of another CSI, Holly Gribbs. How did you know Ms. Sidle and why did you select her?"  
  
Grissom remained silent for a moment collecting his thoughts. He hadn't expected any questions to be directed towards him.  
  
"I first met Sara a number of years earlier at a week-long seminar I was teaching. Then about three months later, I was called in by the San Francisco Police Department to consult on an abduction and murder. Sara was one of the CSIs working that case. I was struck on both occasions by her intellect, professionalism and dedication to the job. We became friends and maintained contact over the years. When Holly was shot, I knew it was important to bring in someone who had no personal involvement, who could handle the case with discretion and work unsupervised. Sara accepted my request and luckily for the lab she decided to take a permanent position here."  
  
Sara blushed. Grissom rarely gave compliments and to receive such a glowing one at a press conference was surprising. Warrick and Catherine grinned at their friend's obvious embarrassment.  
  
"Ms. Sidle, is it true you're the lab's top CSI?"  
  
"What?"  
  
Carvallo stepped forward. "CSI Sidle has held the top solve-rate in the lab for more than nineteen months," he said. Sara blushed again. She never knew that.  
  
"You're the lab's expert in materials analysis, correct?"  
  
"I wouldn't say expert, but it's what I studied in graduate school."  
  
"Where? And in what?" Sara bit her lip from pointing out the obvious: she had just said she studied materials analysis.  
  
"I was a doctoral candidate at the Kavli Institute for Theoretical Physics at the University of California, Santa Barbara," she said, spelling out the name. She expected half to get it wrong anyway. "I was with the Center for Polymers and Organic Solids."  
  
"Where did you go to school before that?"  
  
"I received my bachelor's degree in physics from Harvard."  
  
That caused a commotion in the crowd. No one recognized the Kavli Institute, but everyone was familiar with Harvard. They knew she was brave and beautiful; now they could add brains to the list.  
  
"How did you get started in forensics?"  
  
"While in grad school. The Los Angeles Police Department had a murder case which was giving them trouble. They had some materials which their labs were having trouble analyzing and they asked the university to help. I was one of the scientists who worked on the case. I found I enjoyed the challenge the job offered."  
  
"Did you finish your doctorate?"  
  
"No."  
  
Grissom gave Mobley a subtle glance. It was a gesture they had worked out in advance if the questions started making her uneasy. He knew this was a subject she didn't like to talk about.  
  
Sara never told him why she had dropped out of school. He had asked her years ago, when they had first met, but all she would say was that it involved a personal incident. At the time, he didn't know her well, and didn't think much about it.  
  
In all the years since, he had never brought it up again. Looking back on it, Grissom began to wonder what could have happened that would cause Sara to drop out. Quitting was not in her character. Maybe he should ask her again some time.  
  
"Why? Will you go back?"  
  
Grissom discreetly placed a reassuring hand on her back, giving a gentle rub. She relaxed at his touch. The move wasn't missed by Catherine who had quietly moved in closer to Sara as well. She could see that the younger woman had tensed.  
  
Mobley had also detected the move.  
  
"There's no simple reason why I left," she said after a minute. "Let's just say that at the time I found the practical applications more interesting than the academic. Will I finish? Maybe, some day."  
  
Grissom was surprised; she had never mentioned an interest in finishing her degree. Another thing he hadn't known about her.  
  
"Will you be accepting any Hollywood offers or book deals?"  
  
"No. I find the idea of profiting off of another's loss to be personally reprehensible."  
  
After a few more inane questions, Mobley stepped forward, thanking the press. Sara had performed beautifully up to that point, but the time had come to end this. He could see the strain forming in her posture.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Reaching Grissom's office, Sara dropped into one of the chairs in front of his desk.  
  
"You handled that very well, Sara."  
  
She cocked an eyebrow at him. "Were you expecting me to blow up?"  
  
"No, but I don't think anyone would have blamed you if you did," he said.  
  
"I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier. I'm a little stressed right now," she said, holding her arms far apart as she said 'little'. Grissom chuckled and Sara gave him a grin.  
  
"That's understandable, Sara. Have you called Philip yet?"  
  
"No. I will, Grissom, don't worry. I know I have to get my head shrunk. Just didn't have time today between playing hide-and-seek and twenty questions."  
  
"Okay," he said giving her a smile. "That case you mentioned for the Los Angeles police. Was that the West Hollywood Ripper?"  
  
"Yeah. You know that case?"  
  
"Sara, it was one of the biggest cases around. No one could figure out what could have caused those materials to melt the way they did," he said proudly. "Until they asked you, apparently."  
  
She gave a short snort of laughter. "Oh, please! Griss, I was so far down on the list of people that worked that case it's not funny. Thanks, by the way, for the compliments." She gave him a shy smile.  
  
"Just telling the truth."  
  
And he was.  
  
To say that Sara had impressed him at that seminar would be an understatement. She had blown him away.  
  
It was a week-long series for beginning crime scene investigators. Each morning, the students would be presented a package of information from an already solved case. They were given several hours to research the materials, then they presented their initial assessments. After lunch, Grissom would tell them everything they had done wrong.  
  
That year, he started the series with a death-by-radio tower. Marcus Bronson was an eccentric who ran his own AM radio station, which he used to badger anyone and anything that caught his attention. One day, his broadcast suddenly went off the air and when the police arrived they found the tower had crashed into the building which doubled as Bronson's house and station.  
  
Included in the package of information was a list of suspects, including one Buddy LeBleu, a local developer with a shady past, violent temper and a frequent subject of Bronson's rants. He had threatened to kill the radio operator earlier the day of his death and had been found with a set of industrial cable cutters in his truck.  
  
As he expected, all the students quickly put the pieces together: LeBleu had cut the guy-wires to the tower, causing it to sway in the wind. The weakened structure then collapsed.  
  
All the students except Sara.  
  
She maintained the collapse and Bronson's death had been an accident. Her interpretation of the situation was a bizarre combination of poor structure design, improper grounding and electrical buildup. It was so strange that the other students openly mocked the pseudo-hippie from San Francisco.  
  
Despite the criticisms directed her way, Sara stood up for her theory. Breaking for lunch, Grissom approached Sara to ask her how she had reached her conclusions. She was wary, but willing to explain. He spent the lunch hour pointing out reasons why LeBleu as a murder suspect would make more sense. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't sway the brunette away from her theory.  
  
Grissom started the afternoon session by asking anyone if they had changed their theories. When no one volunteered, he pointedly asked Sara if she was going to change her mind. She said no firmly, bringing another round of derisive laughter. Grissom stopped it by telling everyone Sara was correct.  
  
Each year he liked to start the series with a case that had an obvious solution which also happened to be wrong. Too often investigators would find a solution too easily and overlook the rest of the evidence.  
  
Sara was the first student who hadn't fallen for the trap. Not only that, she had correctly pieced together a truly odd collection of clues to solve the bizarre case. He was so impressed, he had her direct the afternoon session, showing how she reached her conclusion.  
  
He was hooked.  
  
She continued to impress him the rest of the week. He made a point of eating lunch with her each day to grill her on her assessments. Other students gathered around, recognizing a unique learning opportunity. The two worked on the same wave length. She easily saw through his attempts at misdirection and he challenged her to see the evidence in new ways.  
  
Three months later he was pleasantly surprised to be working with her again. She was embarrassed and flattered that he remembered her.  
  
As if he could have forgotten her.  
  
They formed a quick friendship as they worked the case. They maintained it over the years, occasionally meeting at seminars and conferences. If one found an interesting article, worked an especially intriguing case or just wanted to chat an e-mail exchange would begin.  
  
Looking into the tired eyes of the woman before him he was sad to realize that they had communicated more when they were apart than they did now. Oh, they talked at work, but it was professional. Before it had been friendly.  
  
"What?"  
  
Sara's question broke his train of thought.  
  
"Nothing. Just thinking."  
  
"Good thoughts or bad thoughts?" Sara asked with a grin.  
  
"Both," was his only response. 


	6. I ask no other thing

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 6 - I ask no other thing  
  
"Sara, nicely done," Mobley said from the doorway. "I realize that was an uncomfortable situation."  
  
"Thanks, Sheriff."  
  
"I wanted to let you know that a memorial service for the children has been scheduled," he said softly. "You've been asked to attend. I told the organizers that I would give you the message."  
  
She turned to look at him in surprise. "When?"  
  
"Thursday evening, six o'clock, at Guardian Angel Cathedral."  
  
She nodded her head. It was the least she could do for them.  
  
"I've also spoken to David Hernandez. His daughter, Teresa, was one of the children you rescued. The girl you carried off the bus?"  
  
"How is she?"  
  
"Weak, but getting better. She lost a lot of blood and she'll need plastic surgery, but the doctors say she'll be fine."  
  
Fine except for the nightmares. Children were actually more resilient than adults. Teresa probably won't be plagued by nightmares for years. Lucky for her. She saw the look Grissom was giving her. Had she shuddered again? Probably too much caffeine and lack of sleep.  
  
"Good," she said.  
  
"Anyway, her father was wondering if you would be willing to visit Teresa in the hospital. She's been asking for you. She wants to thank you," Mobley said.  
  
"Sure, yeah," Sara said, hoping this wouldn't turn into another photo session. "What hospital?"  
  
"Desert Palms."  
  
"I'll go by tomorrow morning after shift ends," she said.  
  
"Good. I know you're probably getting stir-crazy Sara, but I'm afraid I have to insist you stay in the lab until the media frenzy dies down. We can't risk them contaminating a scene."  
  
"Okay." Damn.  
  
"One last thing, Sara. Will your family be attending the ceremony on Friday? The event coordinator is making up seating arrangements."  
  
"I don't know. I haven't talked to them recently," she said. Noticing Mobley's shocked expression, she added, "I'm still going through my phone messages. I haven't even listened to the ones on my machine at home."  
  
"Why don't you call them, Sara?" Grissom pushed his office phone towards her. "I'm heading home to change before shift starts. Do you want me to bring you back something for dinner?"  
  
"No thanks, Griss. More baskets came today. I'll graze," she said, picking up the phone. "Sheriff, I'll let you know what my parents say."  
  
Nodding his head, Mobley waited in the hallway until Grissom exited, closing the door behind him. "Gil, if you have a minute, there's something we need to talk about."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Sara held the phone, waiting until her supervisors left the room. She gave Grissom a smile of thanks when he closed the office door. He understood this was a conversation she would want to have in private.  
  
"Might as well get this over with," she muttered, waiting for the call to connect. "Hi, Dad. How are you doing?"  
  
"Sara! What's up?"  
  
What's up? All the major news organizations in the country were tracking her every movement, and he asked what's up. Typical, actually. They probably hadn't even noticed it was her on the TV.  
  
"Nothing much, Dad. Same old, same old."  
  
"What? Oh, sorry, got distracted there. I hope this hasn't been typical for you, Sara."  
  
Well, he did have a clue. That was a surprise.  
  
"You noticed?"  
  
"Well, there's about five camera crews going around town talking to everyone who ever met you."  
  
"Tell me you're joking! Please?" Sara asked in disbelief.  
  
"'Fraid not, Sara. When you decide to do something, you go all-out don't you?" He laughed. Of course, her parents would find this amusing.  
  
"I didn't 'do' this, Dad. This happened. I wish to hell it would go away."  
  
"Don't worry, Sunflower, it will," he said. Sara winced at the nickname. She hated it. She had always hated it. Her parents knew that. They still used it. They probably hoped it would rub off on her and change her disposition. Still, she was lucky that they hadn't actually named her that.  
  
"Look, Dad, there's a ceremony Friday. They want to know if you and Mom are coming. They hadn't heard from you and I haven't had a chance to go through all my messages, yet," she said, not really expecting there would be a message.  
  
"Oh, your mom mentioned something about that. She was going to check with Stan and Mary and see if they could watch the place for the weekend. Let me see if she ever got an answer; hold on."  
  
Sara stared at the phone in shock. Her parents were actually thinking about coming? Here? Her parents had never once visited her, not even when she lived in nearby San Francisco.  
  
Demons must be rushing to buy ice skates.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Gil, have a seat. This won't take long," Mobley said, closing the door behind him. "First, let me assure you this conversation is completely off-the-record. Don't feel anything said here will reflect poorly on you."  
  
That was never the start of a good conversation.  
  
"What's up, Brian?" Grissom asked.  
  
"What, exactly, is your relationship with Sara?"  
  
Grissom stared at the sheriff. What was he talking about?  
  
"Professional," he finally said, giving the other man a harsh look.  
  
"Anything else?"  
  
"Look, Brian, I don't know what type of accusations you're trying to make, but..."  
  
"Gil, calm down," the sheriff held up his hands. "No accusations are being made. I'm just trying to get a handle on this situation."  
  
"What situation? Sara, and our relationship, isn't any different than what I have with any of my other CSIs," Grissom stressed.  
  
"Do you caress your other CSIs during press conferences, Gil?" Mobley asked directly.  
  
The question shocked Grissom. Caress? When had he caressed Sara? The sheriff noticed the confusion in the other man's eyes. "When the reporter was asking Sara about graduate school, Gil. She tensed, you reached over and caressed her back," he prompted. "She relaxed at your touch."  
  
"Brian, I wasn't aware I had done that," he finally said in shock. "Look, I take full responsibility for that. That was inappropriate of me, Brian, but don't hold it against Sara. Feel free to reprimand me, but don't think that Sara is acting unprofessionally."  
  
"Gil, calm down," the sheriff repeated. "As I said, this conversation is completely off-the-record. There will be no reprimands."  
  
"Brian, I want to take responsibility. I don't want this held against Sara. If people start talking about this,..."  
  
"You mean like the Haviland case? Where Sara was accused in court of caressing you, I believe? Gil, what became of that?" The sheriff paused until realization struck Grissom. "Exactly. Nothing. The citizens of Las Vegas do understand that defense attorneys will attack members of this department in an attempt to discredit them. The department certainly understands it."  
  
Mobley watched as Grissom finally sat down. It wasn't often he saw the entomologist either at a loss for words or totally surprised.  
  
"Gil, if there is a relationship between you and Sara, I need to know the truth so certain arrangements can be made."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Steps would have to be taken to avoid any accusations of favoritism," the sheriff explained.  
  
"What?"  
  
Mobley suppressed his humor. He knew Grissom wouldn't enjoy this conversation, but Mobley never thought he'd find it amusing himself. The enigmatic scientist reduced to monosyllabic answers. "If you and Sara are involved in any way other than professional, just tell me, Gil. We can take the necessary steps," Mobley said.  
  
"Brian, again, there is no relationship between us. We're friends, but that's it," Grissom said, still processing this conversation. "Any other type of relationship would be in violation of departmental regulations."  
  
"I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that those particular regulations are routinely ignored."  
  
"What?"  
  
A small smile finally escaped from the sheriff. For a brilliant forensic scientist, Grissom was not good in social skills. Luckily. The man was an asset that any other lab in the country would gladly take. If he understood people better, he'd know the lab would go to considerable trouble to keep him. Too often, people of his caliber became ogres when they realized what they could get away with. "Gil, you wouldn't be the first couple to be violating those regulations."  
  
"I had no idea," Grissom said honestly.  
  
"Exactly. Discretion is key," Mobley decided to show some mercy. "Those regulations exist for legal reasons, Gil, but we're realistic here. People tend to be attracted to those with similar educational backgrounds, especially among scientists. For a city this size, Las Vegas has very few facilities which hires people of our caliber. It's normal for inner-office romances to develop. As long as the couple are discreet and professional, we tend to ignore it. Now, in your case, there's the added complication of you being a supervisor. A few precautions would need to be taken."  
  
"What?" Grissom saw the smile the sheriff tried to hide. "What kind of precautions, Brian? Are you talking about transferring her to days?"  
  
The sheriff regarded him calmly. For someone who had no relationship, Grissom seemed oddly interested. The other man noticed.  
  
"You've made me curious, Brian. I never expected you to be one to bend the rules like this."  
  
"Gil, I'm an elected official. My job description is knowing which rules to bend and when to do it. As for transferring Sara, that would only be a last resort. You couldn't be in a position where you had direct influence on her career. Basically, someone else would have to do her evaluations and if the need ever arose, you couldn't be involved in a disciplinary action."  
  
Mobley watched as Grissom digested this information. "Gil, if your relationship with Sara does change I expect to be made aware of it immediately. I believe you were on your way home." He wondered how long Grissom would sit there if he didn't encourage him to leave.  
  
"Right," Grissom got up and wandered towards the door. "Oh, Brian, Sara's a vegetarian. Let the event coordinator know."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
After forwarding the fact that her parents were actually coming, Sara went to the break room to raid the new supply of food gifts which had arrived. She then found a quiet corner where she could continue returning phone calls until shift started.  
  
Eventually, she found herself outside the morgue. She needed to talk to Dr. Robbins, but was afraid to enter. She didn't want to think about what might be on one of his slabs. Taking a deep breath, Sara opened the door.  
  
"Hey, Doc, you here?"  
  
"Sara! Come in. What can I do for you?" Dr. Robbins looked up from the microscope where he had been examining samples. He noticed the quick glance she gave around the room and was grateful none of the wreck victims were on display.  
  
"I heard you helped with the bus accident? I wanted to know, if, do you know,..."  
  
"Sara?"  
  
"Were they dead, Doc? The kids? Were they dead before the fire? I have to know I didn't leave anyone behind."  
  
"Sara, I can't give you the answers you need. Not yet, anyway. The fire didn't leave us much to work with," he said quietly, wishing there was some easier way to describe this. "We may never know for certain what the exact cause of death was."  
  
Sara closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. Robbins wondered if she had managed to get any sleep since the accident. She didn't look like she had.  
  
"Sara, all the children who died were at the front of the bus, on the left-hand side. It sustained the brunt of the impact, first from the tractor, then from the load. I can tell you from experience that they had no chance. Even if that wreck had happened in front of a fully-staffed operating room, injuries that severe aren't survivable."  
  
She just nodded her thanks and started to turn to leave.  
  
"Sara? You're not responsible for their deaths. You know that, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah, Doc, I know."  
  
"Have you talked to Dr. Kane yet?"  
  
"No. Why does everyone keep asking me that?"  
  
"Because stress can do terrible things to a person, Sara, and this has to be as stressful as hell," he gave her a kind smile. "You have friends who worry about you."  
  
She sniffed and returned the smile. "Thanks, Doc. I just haven't had a chance to talk to him, yet. I will."  
  
Turning to leave, a name written on tape on one of the morgue's vaults caught her eye. "Lawrence, Hunter". A boy with gentle eyes and a sweet smile who had to be identified by DNA. Sara froze briefly before quickly exiting the morgue.  
  
Dr. Robbins watched the scene with concern. He'd have to talk to Gil. Stress could do terrible things to a body and he didn't want Sara on one of his tables any time soon.  
  
TBC 


	7. The grass has so little to do

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 7 - The grass has so little to do  
  
"Give me a case, Grissom."  
  
Looking up from his microscope, he saw Sara standing in the doorway of the lab. Some time during the night she had found the stash of clothing Catherine had left for her and had changed into jeans and a T-shirt. Her clothing may have been more relaxed but her posture wasn't.  
  
Grissom could only imagine how she must feel. The literal definition of 'workaholic' was trapped inside the building - on a night full of cases - because of a media horde stalking her. He realized this invasion must be distressing given her private nature. It would bother him as well. That she couldn't bury herself in work - her usual outlet - wasn't helping. He had noticed the glares she directed at him earlier that evening when he had handed out the assignments.  
  
"Sorry, Sara. You heard the sheriff."  
  
"Give me a damn case!"  
  
Sara jumped at the intensity of her demand. She hadn't meant to explode like that; it caught her by surprise. From her boss' expression, she gathered he was shocked as well. "Sorry. As you may have noticed, I'm going stir-crazy," she said, flashing him an embarrassed smile.  
  
"I noticed," he said dryly.  
  
"Relax. I'm stressed, not psychotic. I called Dr. Kane after I got off the phone with my parents. I left a message. He cut out early," she said, when she noticed his worried look. "I'm bored, Grissom. I need something to work on."  
  
"I'm sorry, Sara, but I can't send you out," he said. "Can't you do something around here?"  
  
She started pacing around the room. "I've cleared out all my e-mail. I've returned all the phone calls I can without waking people up. There's no paperwork left to do. Anywhere. I went through the stuff in the break room. Boxed up a bunch of stuff to take to the kid's ward at the hospital when I go visit Teresa. I've recalibrated the mass-spectrometer. All the field kits are restocked. The store room's reorganized. I cleaned the coffee machine. And I even cleaned out the refrigerator," she paused her pacing long enough to give him a dirty look. "That was just gross, Grissom. If you don't give me something to do, I'll go do something desperate. I might even be nice to Greg."  
  
She gave him an apologetic smile. She hadn't meant to snap at him. He tried to give her a reassuring smile in return, but he knew it wasn't convincing. It had been less than 48 hours since the accident. The press attention was already getting to Sara. He didn't want to think about how she'd react if something else didn't distract them quickly. Maybe Mobley had been right about her taking a vacation.  
  
"Nice to Greg? We'd never get him off the ceiling," he said softly. "Why don't you try something less radical - go visit your parents."  
  
That drew a chortle of laughter. Grissom was the only one in the lab who knew about her unique relationship with her parents.  
  
"First off, things haven't gotten so bad that I'd resort to that. Yet," she said. "Secondly, there's a flock of vultures going around talking to the neighbor's-babysitter's-ex-boyfriend's-cousin's-mechanic about me at home, so that's no good. And you won't believe this - my parents are coming to the ceremony!"  
  
"Really?" That was a surprise. He knew Sara's parents had never visited her. "When was the last time you saw them?"  
  
"When I went back to San Francisco to pack before moving out here. I stopped in to see them before I left," she said. He gave her a small smile, knowing her relationship with her parents was strained.  
  
"Look, go hide out in a motel, play tourist at Mt. Rushmore, visit some friends. Get out of here, Sara. No one expects you to put up with all this press attention."  
  
"Trying to get rid of me?" She smiled when she answered, but Grissom recognized she was trying to change the subject.  
  
"Never. But take the vacation," Grissom replied. He wondered why she was hesitant to take a free week of vacation. Most people would jump at the chance.  
  
"Is that an order?" Sara refused to look at him.  
  
"No. Just a suggestion from a friend," he said, "who just happens to write your evaluations."  
  
"I can't go," she said softly.  
  
"Of course you can. Mobley's already authorized it," he said in confusion.  
  
"It's not that," she waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "I can't go."  
  
He regarded her carefully. He couldn't understand the emphasis she had put on 'I'. When she looked up and saw Grissom was going to question her further she held up her hand to him. "Look, Grissom, just give me a case. Please." She winced mentally when she detected the hint of begging in her voice.  
  
"Auto detail is bringing in a pick-up used in a robbery. You can process it when it gets here," he said gently.  
  
"Wow. Thanks," she sighed.  
  
"There's a folder on my desk marked 'Tampa Conference'. Inside, there's a list of visuals I need for my talk. If you're really that bored, grab it and work on that until the truck comes in."  
  
"Grunt work. Fun"  
  
"Sara..."  
  
"I know, Grissom, I know. Sorry. It's the best you can do." He watched her head toward the door with none of her normal energy. He knew the busy work - he had already finished the visuals last week - wouldn't do much to help her. He wondered what would work.  
  
"Sara?" He waited until she turned back around. "Is there anything, can I do anything, is there something I can do to help?"  
  
She gave him a sad smile and shook her head before leaving the room.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Touch that and you die."  
  
Nick froze. He completely believed the threat. The unseen voice left no doubt about the seriousness of the situation. Licking his lips nervously, Nick slowly lifted his arms up and turned around cautiously.  
  
"I've got a wife and kids. They need me," he pleaded.  
  
"Stow it, Stokes. Grissom promised me that truck," Sara said as she crossed the garage.  
  
"You so bored you gonna kill me over a truck?"  
  
"Yep. And I'll make it slow, too."  
  
Nick grabbed his chest in fake agony. "Ouch. I thought we were friends."  
  
"We are. That's why you're still breathing. Move away from my evidence."  
  
"My case, my evidence, remember?" Nick teased.  
  
"Nope. Grissom gave me the truck. It's in the building, it's mine."  
  
"Greedy," he accused.  
  
"Stir-crazy," she corrected.  
  
"Don't know about the 'stir' but I'll agree with the rest of it," he said.  
  
"At this point, so would I," she said giving him a glare. "Now don't stand between the crazy woman and her truck."  
  
"Okay," Nick said in mock surrender, "but I'm going to go switch all the coffee to decaf."  
  
"Do that, Stokes, and you will die!"  
  
Grissom watched the exchange in the garage with interest. He had gone to warn Nick when he saw Sara stalking down the hallway. He was worried about her mood, but if she was joking with Nick she must be feeling better. He would have been more convinced if she had sounded like she had been joking.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Warrick swore under his breath. His missing person from Henderson just became a murder. The decomposing body of Winchell Wang had been found by a group of hikers earlier that evening.  
  
Tonight was turning out to be hectic. They were swamped with cases. Catherine was off and Sara couldn't come to a crime scene. To make matters worse, a reporter from the Las Vegas Tribune was hovering around the police tape, yelling questions.  
  
"Look, Miss,"  
  
"Darby. Lynda Darby."  
  
"Yeah, right. Look, I said no comment. I'm not going to talk about Sara."  
  
"Is it true Ms. Sidle ran an internal investigation on you Mr. Brown?"  
  
Damn. How had they learned about that? Someone in the department must be talking. He hoped they weren't talking about Sara, too. Not that she had any dirt to worry about, but she wouldn't like a co-worker talking about her.  
  
"No comment."  
  
"What was the nature of the investigation?" Darby called out. When it was obvious he wasn't going to answer, she tried another tactic. "Do you have problems working with Ms. Sidle because of the investigation? What's your professional relationship like?"  
  
Warrick stopped his examination of the crime scene. He was glad Grissom had kept Sara at the lab. As much as he could have used her help here, she didn't need this kind of hassle. Looking over, he saw Sgt. O'Riley moving over in a hurry. The man seemed angry.  
  
"O'Riley! Can't you do something about her?" Warrick called nodding to the reporter.  
  
"As long as I stay behind the tape, I have every right to be here," Darby stated, wondering why the big man seemed upset.  
  
O'Riley walked over and grabbed the tape recorder from her hand, turning the machine off.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"This is conversation is off-the-record," the burly detective said. "You see that over there? That's a dead body. He was murdered. Brown is trying to find evidence so we can catch the guy that did it. It'd help if Sara was here to give a hand. But she can't leave the building 'cause of you bastards. Think about that. You're helping a murderer get away. You're not going to find any dirt on Sara, so stop wasting your time."  
  
"I'm not looking for 'dirt'. People want to know more about her. Look, she's a hero, whether she wants to be or not."  
  
"Then give her some respect. She doesn't want to talk to you. She's not going too, either. You can't push her. Find someone who wants the attention, why dontcha?" He gave her back the recorder and went to talk with the hikers who had found the body. At least she got their statements, so she'd have a story to file when she got back to the office.  
  
Sighing, Darby put her tape recorder away and headed back to her car. Her source from the day shift had told her about the investigation against Brown, but she didn't have any collaboration. He wasn't talking, either. Too bad; it would have been a new twist to the story. And it may have directed attention away from the woman who had turned down every interview request.  
  
Darby didn't like to admit it, but she didn't like these stories. Sidle wasn't a criminal who deserved to be investigated. She was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Or right place at the right time, as far as those kids were concerned. She'd head over to the hospital in the morning. Maybe she could arrange an interview with one of the families.  
  
There were days when she hated her job.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
After chasing Nick out of the garage, Sara started unloading the supplies out of her kit. She hoped he wasn't angry, but she needed to something to work on. She needed to stop thinking about the accident.  
  
People never understood why Sara buried herself in her work. It was more than just an escape. She was a very logical person. It defined the way she saw the world. That was great when it came to work, school, science, planning her retirement accounts, but it didn't help when it came to emotional issues. She just made herself confused when she tried to apply logic to areas where they didn't work.  
  
Instead, she would push whatever was bothering her down and let her subconscious work it out. She'd distract her conscious with what it was good at: logic. The obvious source was work. Her subconscious would mull over the problem until it reached a solution, which it often presented as a flash of insight.  
  
More often, it came out as a nightmare.  
  
Sara sighed as she spilled the dusting powder. Her hands were shaking. Damn. She just wanted her life to get back to normal. Or at least back to what passed for normal for her. Luckily, the truck and bus from the accident were too large to store at this facility. She didn't think she would have been able to face those.  
  
She began to sing softly. "We have helium and hydrogen, lithium and then beryllium, boron, carbon, oxygen and then nitrogen..." The nonsensical mix of music and science had always been a calming influence on her.  
  
Tears blurred her vision when she thought of the children who would never get a chance to learn it. Moving to the far side of the truck, Sara slowly sank to the floor. She just wanted this all to end  
  
TBC 


	8. If I shouldn't be alive

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 8 - If I shouldn't be alive  
  
"Gil, if you want people to believe you're reading that report, you need to turn a page on occasion."  
  
When Grissom lifted his head in surprise, Catherine crossed the room to sit down in front of his desk. He had been so lost in his thoughts about his earlier conversations with the sheriff and Sara, he hadn't noticed her.  
  
"Catherine? What are you doing here?" It was her night off. Glancing at his watch, Grissom realized she would just have had time to see Lindsay off to school.  
  
"Came to see if Sara wanted to crash at my place again."  
  
"She's going to visit one of the kids she rescued in the hospital. The girl wants to thank her," Grissom said.  
  
"Wow ... Is that a good idea?"  
  
"Why wouldn't it be?" he asked in confusion.  
  
"Well, Sara's already on edge. That's gonna be intense. It may not be the best thing for her right now," Catherine said.  
  
Grissom hadn't considered that. Wouldn't a 'thank you' be a good thing? "Well, Sara didn't seem to mind when Brian gave her the invitation."  
  
Catherine just shrugged. "Has she caught the news recently?"  
  
"I don't know. Why?" Catherine seemed concerned.  
  
"Some station out of San Francisco ran an interview with her parents. Everybody else has picked up on it," she said with a hint of anger in her voice. "If those quotes are accurate, then those two are ... are ... ," she struggled to find the right adjectives.  
  
"Weird? Bizarre? Unique?" Grissom suggested.  
  
"I was going more along the lines of 'heartless bastards', but those'll work."  
  
"What did they say?"  
  
"How they were glad something good finally came out of the total waste Sara made of her life," she said venomously. "Not those exact words, but that's the gist of it."  
  
Grissom nodded sadly. "Sara's parents never approved of her career path. They don't think highly of the government in general and less of the police in particular."  
  
"Why?"  
  
He shrugged. He didn't understand it, either. "They are coming to visit her, though. They'll be at the ceremony."  
  
"Lucky Sara."  
  
"Yeah. It'll be good for her to have her family there."  
  
Catherine stared at her friend in disbelief. He had completely missed the sarcastic tone she used. He seemed lost in his thoughts. "What's up, Gil? Is Sara okay?"  
  
"She's tense," he offered. Catherine watched as he fiddled with some papers on his desk.  
  
"Something else is up."  
  
"It's nothing."  
  
"Gil, don't pull that on me. What's up?" Catherine demanded. She watched as he finally crossed the room to close his door before retaking his seat. He was nervous, she decided as she reached for her coffee.  
  
"Brian talked to me earlier. He wanted to know if I was sleeping with Sara."  
  
"Did you time that so I'd choke on my coffee? 'Cause if you did, it wasn't funny!"  
  
"What? No. Sorry," he gave her a small smile, before turning his attention back to his desk.  
  
"So?" Catherine asked. She couldn't resist the temptation.  
  
"What?" Grissom looked up in confusion.  
  
"Are you sleeping with her?"  
  
"NO!"  
  
"Hey, I'm not the one with hearing problems. Don't yell at me," Catherine said with a smile.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Have you?" Catherine asked, trying to keep her humor under control.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Slept with her?"  
  
"Catherine!"  
  
"I'll take it that's a 'no'?" He was unsettled.  
  
"Of course!"  
  
"Look, Gil, a bit of friendly advice. Sara's not vain, but it wouldn't be good for your health if she heard you use that tone of voice to deny it."  
  
"Catherine," he paused trying to calm himself. "I wouldn't do that to her. People would think she had slept her way into her job."  
  
"Yeah, we get so many Harvard graduates here," she said, rolling her eyes. "The press talked to her professors. That Kalvi place?"  
  
"Kavli," he corrected.  
  
"Whatever. Never heard of it, but apparently it's a big deal. Sara had her choice of graduate schools."  
  
"Still, Catherine, people would still think she was sleeping her way up."  
  
"Grissom, I hate to tell you this, but people have thought that from the beginning."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Stop yelling, Gil," Catherine said softly. "Look, you know everybody who is anybody in forensics. When you needed help, you brought in a young, hot woman with a fraction of the experience of most of the CSIs you're friends with."  
  
"Is that what people thought?"  
  
"Yeah. Some did anyway. But Sara showed she could do the job. No one doubts her skills. But the people who believe the rumors, Gil, it doesn't matter what the truth is. They'll still believe it."  
  
"God, Catherine, I had no idea."  
  
"So I noticed," she said with a smirk. "Did Mobley give you a hard time?"  
  
"No. In fact, he said it was okay if we were involved. We'd just have to take some precautions," he gave his friend a pointed look when she started laughing at his phrasing. "He said we wouldn't be the first couple in the lab."  
  
"That's true." Of course, she would know the office gossip.  
  
"So, there's nothing going on between you and Sara?"  
  
"No, Catherine."  
  
"But Mobley wouldn't care if there was?"  
  
"Right, Catherine," he replied wearily. Where was she going with this?  
  
"Okay. Don't start anything, Gil, I'm warning you," Catherine gave him a serious look. "She doesn't need that right now. Her life is in a big enough jumble right now without you stirring it up more. Don't start anything," she repeated. Catching her friends startled expression, she reached over to squeeze his hand. "Not now, anyway. Let this mess settle down before making any moves. Just be a friend for now."  
  
Any response Grissom may have been planning was halted by the commotion coming from the hallway.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Gathering the stacks of prints and envelopes of trace materials, Sara left the garage and headed for the evidence vault. She hoped no one would comment on her overzealousness. Once she had regained her composure, Sara attacked the vehicle as if it were responsible for her troubles. She'd seen murder cases with less evidence. They'd probably find half of the prints she lifted belonged to an assembly crew back in Detroit.  
  
Ahead of her, Nick and Warrick were discussing a report. When Nick saw her approaching, he threw himself up against the wall in a dramatic gesture. He grabbed Warrick's arm to pull him over as well. "Look out, man! You don't want to get between Sara and the evidence vault! She'll rip you a new one," he teased.  
  
Sara just gave him an evil look, but stopped when Warrick reached out and put a reassuring arm around her shoulders. After exchanging a curious look with Nick, Sara turned to Warrick.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"Yeah. Sure," she said, wondering what had prompted his concern. She had pulled herself together. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her keys. "Hey, Nicky, could you do me a favor? Could you pull my Tahoe into the garage? David's a nice enough guy, but I feel like a zombie riding in that van."  
  
Snatching the keys she tossed his way, Nick grinned. "No problem, sugar," he teased, easily avoiding the punch he knew would be directed his way.  
  
Warrick stayed by her side as she walked to the evidence vault. "Hey, Warrick, really, I'm okay. Just tense, you know? Don't like all this attention."  
  
"Yeah, I get you. They'll get bored with you soon enough," he said in a joking voice. "You got a place to go? 'Cause they're still camped outside of your apartment."  
  
"Damn it!"  
  
Warrick watched as Sara began rapidly entering her evidence collection into storage. He was amazed when she started singing. His laughter caused her to stop. "Damn, I wish I knew that song when I was in college," he said. "That's better than the Lehrer version."  
  
Sara blushed. She hadn't realized she had started another musical review of the elements. She had made it to neon - 'such a noble gas' - before Warrick interrupted her. She gave him an embarrassed shrug before finishing up her evidence.  
  
Sara gave him a suspicious glance when he followed her to the break room. "Warrick? Are you part St. Bernard? 'Cause I can find my way around."  
  
He laughed. "I forget to shower or something? Nah, I wanted to talk to you, that's all." If he saw her tense, he didn't comment on it.  
  
Grabbing the box of toys she had set aside earlier, Sara quickly left the room. "I'm on my way to the hospital right now. How about later?"  
  
Warrick never got a chance to answer. Sara froze at the voice which greeted her. Not him, not now.  
  
"If it isn't the indestructible Sara Sidle! What heroics do you have planned for today? We can give an itinerary to your press escorts," came Brass' teasing voice from behind the two CSIs.  
  
"Shut up, Brass!"  
  
Sara turned around sharply. Warrick had already placed his body between Brass and Sara.  
  
"Whoa, Brown! Calm down" Brass said, holding up his hands and leaning around the taller man to address Sara. "Body guard or fan club president?" he asked, jerking a thumb at Warrick.  
  
"I told you to shut the hell up, Brass," Warrick said in an angry voice.  
  
"What's going on guys?" Nick came running up the hallway. Handing Sara her keys, he noticed she seemed shocked. Following her glance, he saw heads turning and watching from the different labs. Shaking herself, Sara reached over and grabbed Warrick's arm.  
  
"Warrick, chill. It's okay. Brass was just joking," she said urgently. People had started moving into doorways to watch. Damn. She had to get out of here. Sara turned abruptly and headed towards the garage. "See you guys later."  
  
"Hey, what's going on out here?" Grissom and Catherine had rounded the corner in time to see Sara duck into the garage. Both noticed she was wiping her eyes.  
  
"Brass was harassing, Sara," Warrick declared harshly.  
  
"Easy there, Brown. Gil, I was joking with her. Sara said it herself," Brass said. "If it bothered her, I'll apologize later."  
  
"If? Are you blind, Brass? Sara was crying when she left!" Nick exploded.  
  
"That's probably more over the scene you guys created!" Catherine snapped.  
  
"Hey, I got here just before you did! I don't know what's going on," Nick responded.  
  
"Everybody! Just calm down," Grissom barked. He was furious. People accused him of not having any social skills, but he knew better than to embarrass Sara like this. "Brown. Brass. My office. Now!"  
  
Warrick caught the venom in Grissom's voice. For the first time he noticed the attention from the rest of the personnel. He closed his eyes and lifted his head back in sorrow. He had just ended up making everything worse.  
  
"Look, Grissom, I'll be there in a second. I have to grab something from my locker first. It's important. Everybody needs to see it," he indicated Catherine and Nick.  
  
Nodding his reluctant consent, Grissom moved to herd the rest of the team into his office. "Don't you people have any work to do?" His exclamation sent the rest of the lab staff scurrying back into their labs and offices.  
  
Moving behind his desk, he scowled at his team. He could feel the start of a migraine forming. He collapsed into his chair as Warrick came into his office with a thick folder. "I hope there is some sort of good explanation for that scene. Because I have to tell you - all of you - I'm not happy. Sara is stressed enough."  
  
A muttering of "I'm sorry" came from around the room.  
  
"Who wants to start?"  
  
"I made a joke. I guess Sara didn't find it funny," Brass volunteered. "I will apologize, Gil. But, Warrick, man there was no reason to jump down my throat. On occasion, I've been known to take a subtle hint to shut up."  
  
"Sorry, man, but I'm worried about Sara," Warrick said.  
  
"Warrick? What's up?" Catherine asked. She couldn't recall ever seeing her teammate so tense. What ever was bothering him was serious.  
  
"This." He tossed a series of photographs and articles on the table. All were about a man carrying a bloody little girl in his arms. "That's Robert O'Donnell. He pulled Jessica McClure out of that well in Texas back in '87."  
  
He followed with a series about a woman rescuing a child from a frozen lake in Maine. After that came stories about several rescue personnel who worked the explosion aftermath at the federal building in Oklahoma. There were stunning photos of paramedics helping victims of Hurricane Andrew; a bridge collapse in Oregon; an apartment fire in Los Angeles. A number of articles featured different people involved in the 9/11 attacks at the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. The last set of articles showed a man with surveying equipment.  
  
"That's Robert Long. He's credited with rescuing those miners trapped in Quecreek, Pennsylvania last summer," he said. In his hands, he held photos of Sara at the bus accident.  
  
"Sara's cohorts in the League of Super Heroes," Brass joked.  
  
"Quiet, Brass," Catherine whispered harshly.  
  
"All of these people had their lives turned upside down after they rescued somebody and became media stars," he said. "The same is happening to Sara."  
  
"Look, Warrick, if you have a point, could you make it, please?" Brass asked impatiently. He was still upset over the verbal abuse the younger man had directed at him earlier.  
  
"What's different about Sara, Brass?" The harsh tone Warrick used made the others jump. Brass just shook his head, lifting his hands to indicate he didn't know.  
  
"Sara's still alive," he said harshly. "All the rest of them? They killed themselves."  
  
TBC 


	9. Apparently with no surprise

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 9 - Apparently with no surprise  
  
"No way!"  
  
The team jumped as Nick's exclamation finally shattered the silence that had settled over Grissom's office. "No way, man. Not Sara! Not ever!"  
  
"Look, Nick, all I'm saying...," Warrick stopped when Nick jumped in front of him angrily.  
  
"What? That's Sara's gonna kill herself? Did she tell you this? Show you the pills? What? What are you saying?" he hissed.  
  
"Nicky, calm down," Catherine said, laying a reassuring hand on his arm.  
  
"Calm down? Don't tell me you think Sara would do that."  
  
"No, Nick, I don't think Sara would ever kill herself," Catherine replied honestly. She regarded the Texan carefully. He seemed desperate to believe there wasn't any reason to be concerned. Still, he needed to be realistic. She pointed to the photos on Grissom's desk. "But how many of their friends would have told you the same thing?"  
  
"Christ! I can't believe you people! Grissom, why aren't you saying anything?" Nick turned to his supervisor who was staring at the photos on his desk. Seeing Grissom wasn't going to answer, he turned away in disgust and looked back at the rest of the team. "Do you even know Sara? She wouldn't even kill someone else in self-defense! How could you think she'd ever hurt herself? You are so wrong, man," Nicked claimed, pushing a finger into Warrick's chest.  
  
"Look, Nick, I really don't think Sara would ever ... do that," Warrick said hesitantly. After broaching the subject, he now found he couldn't actually vocalize his concerns. "But all this was enough to drive those people to ... that extreme. A bunch more had other problems. Drugs, alcohol. We don't know how Sara's going to react, 'cause none of us have any idea what this is doing to her. Nick, I just don't want to see Sara hurt. She's got enough trouble with this, without us adding more. I'm just saying we need to keep an eye on her."  
  
"Fine," Nick said as he headed for the door. "Fine. Just don't let Sara know. Because that would hurt her. That you thought that little of her. 'Cause I'm telling you, Sara would never do that. She wouldn't," he added before leaving the room.  
  
"I'll go talk to him," Brass offered. "Look, Warrick, really I was joking. I didn't think it would bother Sara."  
  
"Yeah, sorry, too," Warrick said. "Grissom, I know I made things worse out there earlier. I'll apologize to Sara," he added before following Brass.  
  
Catherine watched her friend as he sat at his desk. From the way he rubbed his temples and the tightness around his eyes, she guessed a migraine was forming. "Gil? You okay? Want a ride home?" She began to worry when he didn't answer. "Gil?"  
  
"Sara wouldn't ... God, Catherine, Sara would never," he tried again. "I can't believe she'd ever to that," he finally managed.  
  
"I don't either, Gil, but let's not take any chances, okay? Warrick's right: this was enough to mess up a lot of other people." When he didn't respond again, she walked around to sit on his desk and place a hand on his shoulder. "Sara's strong, Gil. I think she'll be all right. I'll try to talk to her, but we're not exactly best friends. If you feel better, why don't you come over later. What hospital did she go to?"  
  
"Desert Palms. She's visiting Teresa Hernandez."  
  
"Okay, I'll see if she'll come over and stay at my place. Give me a call later, okay?"  
  
"Thanks, Catherine."  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Slamming the door to the SUV, Sara quickly started the engine and pulled out of the garage. The sheriff had kept the press away from the back exit so they wouldn't interfere with the lab's work. With luck, she'd be able to get to the hospital without an escort.  
  
Seeing she wasn't being followed, Sara pulled into a donut shop's drive-thru for coffee and breakfast. Going to a run-down motel, she pulled into an isolated corner of the parking lot to eat her meal in silence. She kept the radio off; she was tired of hearing about what a hero she was; how brave she was; how unselfish she was.  
  
If people only knew the truth.  
  
What was that scene in the lab? Brass was joking. Sure, she didn't feel like listening to it, but what was Warrick's problem? From the looks coming from the lab staff, she knew that she'd be the topic of conversation for yet another night. Why couldn't they just leave her alone?  
  
The coffee and sugar didn't settle well. Her stomach was already upset, her head hurt, she was short-tempered and more than anything she wanted a cigarette. That made her angry: she had finally broke the damn habit and wasn't sure she'd be able to resist starting again.  
  
Sighing, she pulled back onto the road and headed to the hospital. She entered the parking garage from the rear entrance. There were a number of camera crews set up in front of the hospital. They weren't allowed inside and were trying to catch interviews as people entered the building. Sara went to the top level of the parking garage, knowing it would have the fewest cars this time of day. Grabbing the box of toys, she made her way to the elevator and the children's ward. Sara kept her head down as she made her trek. She had borrowed one of Greg's hats, pulled her hair up and was wearing a pair of sunglasses.  
  
Walking to the nurse's station, she handed the box of toys to the duty nurse, asking that they be distributed around the ward. The woman gave her a friendly smile and told her Teresa's room number. So much for her disguise.  
  
She walked slowly to the room, dreading the encounter.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Stokes! Let's get some coffee," Brass called to the man when he caught up to him in the parking lot.  
  
"Look, Brass, don't you start.."  
  
"Shut up," the police captain said softly. "Let's not make another scene. Luckily the press didn't see our earlier show, but this is a more public stage."  
  
"Fine. Meet you at the diner," he said. Brass gave a friendly wave to the reporters who had turned to watch the exchange. Making his way to the diner, he found Nick already in a rear booth, well away from the other customers. Brass ordered coffee before joining the younger man.  
  
"Nick, we're just concerned. We're not going to have her committed," Brass said. "Why is this bothering you so much?"  
  
"I can't believe Sara would ever do that," he said softly, "I don't want to believe she would ever do that."  
  
"None of us do, pal. Let's just do what we can to make sure it doesn't happen."  
  
"Any idea how we do that?" Nick asked. Brass just shook his head.  
  
"'Cause one of my frat brothers killed himself in college. A week before graduation. None of us had a clue anything was wrong. He never showed any of those signs suicidal people are supposed to have. I couldn't bear to lose Sara like that," Nick finally admitted.  
  
"I know, Nick, I know," Brass said. Over his long career, he had attended too many funerals for friends who hadn't been able to handle the stress.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Grissom fought a losing battle with his body. His head continued to pound. His stomach was churning. He refused to take his pulse, since knowing exactly how high it was would just make him more upset.  
  
He stared at the photos before him in silence. He had been shocked when Warrick had said all the others had committed suicide. He was relieved when Nick finally broke the silence. At least he knew Sara would never be that selfish. He was going to agree with him when Catherine dropped her bombshell: how many people suspected the others had been suicidal?  
  
Sara would never kill herself. She couldn't. Warrick had to be wrong. He had to be.  
  
Sara was strong. She got overly involved in cases sometimes, but that didn't mean anything. Except she was already getting nightmares. She cried, at least twice, in public. In all the years he had know her, Grissom had only seen her cry once before and that was in the privacy of his office. He tried to forget the number of times he caught her shaking.  
  
Sara was just stressed. She said so herself. She wasn't psychotic. She said so herself. Sara wouldn't kill herself.  
  
She couldn't.  
  
"Gil? Do you have a minute?"  
  
Grissom looked up to see the coroner standing in his doorway. Motioning the doctor in, Grissom sighed when he closed the office door. Today had not been a good day for conversations. "What can I do for you, Doc?"  
  
"I wanted to talk to you about Sara," Robbins began. He noticed Grissom paled. "Has something happened?"  
  
He pointed to the stacks of photos which had been left on his desk. "Warrick's project. These are all people who went through similar incidents like Sara has. They all killed themselves," Grissom said, his tone indicating his disbelief. He felt another knot form in his stomach when the doctor nodded his head in understanding.  
  
"Doc? Don't tell me you think Warrick's right," Grissom growled. Sara would never do that.  
  
"I don't know, Gil. This is a very stressful situation. The psychological impact of stress is Philip's area of expertise, but you know as well as I do the physical damage stress can cause."  
  
"Doc, come on! This press attention will die down in a few days. It bothers her, but it's nothing Sara can't handle!"  
  
The coroner regarded his friend in surprise. "Gil, this has nothing to do with the press. They aren't helping the situation, but they aren't the root problem," he said.  
  
"What are you talking about, Al?"  
  
"Gil, look at this!" Robbins exclaimed shoving Sara's photo into his hands. "That wasn't a scene she processed. She was involved in it. That's not grime on her, Gil, that's blood. From a busload of injured, crying children. That would give the strongest person nightmares."  
  
Grissom blinked as he began to understand the doctor's concern. "Post-traumatic stress disorder? You don't think Sara will be bothered by it, do you?"  
  
"Yes," he stated firmly, watching Grissom raise a quizzical eyebrow at his lack of hesitation. "I'd say she went through it after the lab explosion. Her pulling her gun on a suspect? Inappropriate behavior fits in with PTSD. This could easily cause another occurrence. Again, this is Philip's bailiwick, Gil, but I am concerned."  
  
"Damn." Al was right; Sara's behavior after the explosion could have been caused by PTSD. She had wandered around in a daze, took uncharacteristic actions. He was so wrapped up in his own troubles, he hadn't noticed.  
  
"Gil, I really don't believe Sara would hurt herself deliberately. If I did, I'd contact Philip myself to have her relieved of duty immediately. But that doesn't mean she can't be hurt accidently. Stress can disrupt sleep severely. She could make a mistake or have an accident due to exhaustion. Stress can cause weight loss; Sara's thin enough that could cause health problems. It lowers the body's ability to fight infections. If nothing else, burnout is a very real possibility."  
  
"Doc, I don't know what to do," Grissom said softly.  
  
"Have you talked to Sara about the accident?"  
  
"No," Grissom said softly. "Why?"  
  
"Sara came to the morgue earlier. She wanted - no, she needed - to know that all the children had died before the bus caught fire. She's worried she left someone behind. Something happened on that bus, Gil. She needs to talk about it," Robbins said. "Did she refuse to talk or haven't you asked?"  
  
"I didn't specifically ask about the accident, but she didn't want to talk earlier," he replied, trying not to sound defensive.  
  
"Ask her, Gil. See if she'll talk to you."  
  
"Why me? This is Philip's job," he spat out.  
  
"Why? Because she needs to talk," the doctor said patiently. "Why you? Because your supposed to be her friend, Gil. Look, Sara's smart enough to know why she has to go talk to Philip. If she doesn't want to talk to him, she's also smart enough to give him the answers to make him think everything is okay."  
  
"Al, I don't know what to say, what to do."  
  
"Gil, all you have to do is make sure she talks to Philip. He'll handle the 'whats'. You don't have to say anything. Just be there. I know you aren't comfortable with ... personal ... situations, but make an exception for Sara's sake."  
  
Grissom watched as the coroner left his office. He tried not to think how he would feel if he tried to help and failed.  
  
TBC 


	10. Angels in the early morning

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 10 - Angels in the early morning  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Miss Sidle?"  
  
"Call me Sara," she said as she approached a man and woman standing outside the door to the injured girl's room. The couple looked as bad as she felt; from their appearance, she doubted they had slept or eaten since the accident. She couldn't blame them. "Are you Teresa's parents?"  
  
"Yes. I'm David; this is my wife, Rita," he said reaching out to give Sara's hand a vigorous shake. "We just want to let you know how much we appreciate your coming. And we want to thank you. For saving our baby. Teresa told us she was scared; that she wouldn't leave the bus. That you found her. If you hadn't, she would have been on the bus when, when ..."  
  
Sara froze as the haggard man broke into tears. His wife wrapped her arms around him before thanking Sara herself. She started to say 'It was nothing' but stopped herself in time. To Teresa's parents, her safety wasn't 'nothing'; it was clear they loved their child dearly.  
  
"I'm just sorry she had to go through this. That any of them did," she said instead. Her parents gave her grateful looks. "How is she?"  
  
"Teresa gets tired easily. They're worried about infection. She'll need surgery, later, for the scars. The doctors aren't sure how soon before she'll be allowed to come home," David finally said. He gave Sara an embarrassed look as he wiped away his tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall apart like that," he added.  
  
Sara gave him a reassuring smile. He had no reason to be embarrassed, as far she was concerned. And in her current condition, she wasn't in any position to judge someone else's behavior.  
  
"Is it all right if I see Teresa now? I could come back later if she's too tired," Sara asked. She wasn't looking forward to this. What do you say to a child who barely lived through an accident? Catherine would be better at this.  
  
"No, now's fine. She just woke up a little while ago. She'll be so happy to see you," Rita told her as she opened the door.  
  
Entering the room, Sara was glad the little girl hadn't been looking her way; she wasn't sure she had repressed her wince. Lost in the middle of the large bed, Teresa lay with numerous IVs replacing her lost blood, supplying nutrients and medications. A bank of equipment monitored her condition. Most of the exposed parts of her body were wrapped heavily in gauze.  
  
The girl's shirt had been soaked in blood. It was surprisingly warm. Sara wasn't used to blood being warm and flowing. Or falling like a soft, sticky rain. The child was crying. The smell of smoke was starting to fill the bus. The other two children stood at the end of the bus, lost and alone. She could feel the temperature starting to rise inside the bus, making the already noxious odors worse.  
  
Shaking herself, Sara entered the girl's room and approached the bed. "Teresa? I'm Sara. Your parents said I could see you," she said softly, regretting stopping to eat before coming. Her stomach was twisting.  
  
Despite her condition, the girl's eyes lit up when she recognized her visitor. They were almost the only part of her body which was visible.  
  
"Wow! You came! Cool!"  
  
Sara found herself smiling slightly at the enthusiastic greeting from the child.  
  
"Yeah. Hey, I brought over some toys and stuff for you kids to play with. The nurses have them. Later, why don't you ask them to bring them over so you pick some out?"  
  
"Wow! You brought me a gift!"  
  
Sara's grin grew. She'd never had a child respond so positively to her before. She pulled a chair over to sit by Teresa's side. This wasn't too bad, after all.  
  
"That's for you," the girl said. She turned her eyes to the bedside table. An envelope obviously labeled "Miss Sidle" by an adult was on it. As Sara opened the envelope to remove the store-bought card, the girl apologized. "I wanted to make you one, but I can't color," she held up her heavily bandaged hands.  
  
"This is beautiful. Thank you," Sara said gently. She blinked rapidly, tears blurring her vision, making her unable to read the message. She didn't want to start crying in front of the small girl. She wondered in amazement if she could have ever had been as brave at Teresa's age.  
  
"You like it? Good. I wanted you to have the prettiest one. Daddy picked it out," she said. "He's not good with pretty stuff. Momma tells him that all the time," she said in a conspiratorial whisper.  
  
"I won't tell him you said that," Sara said in the same tone. She could hear the soft chuckling behind her. Their lowered voices had easily carried across the small room. Turning her head, she saw Teresa's parents watching the exchange from the doorway. They seemed happy. What would it feel like to nearly lose a child you dearly loved?  
  
Teresa gave a small yawn and settled back into her bed. Sara started to leave when the child looked her way. "Momma and Daddy are worried," she said softly.  
  
"They love you very much," Sara told her gently.  
  
"It feels funny. Where the doctors had to sew me back up. Momma told me it was like how she fixed my stuffed giraffe after Rusty tried to eat him. I'll be all better, but if I look real closely, I might be able to see where I was cut," Teresa told her.  
  
"I know. See here," she held out her hand to show the child the nearly invisible scar. "I had stitches a few months ago. I was cut on some glass, too. It'll feel funny for a while, but then it gets all better. If it starts to hurt too much, just tell the doctor or a nurse. They can help."  
  
Teresa gave her a friendly smile. Sara felt the tears threatening again. She never considered herself good with children. She had always been uncomfortable around them and never felt they would like her. But this was going far better than she had hoped it would. Teresa actually seemed to like her. The feeling was mutual.  
  
The pair continued to talk as Teresa asked her questions about what a CSI did and Sara tried to explain it in age-appropriate terms. After a few more minutes, the girl yawned again. Seeing she was fighting sleep, Sara stood up and straightened out her blankets.  
  
"Will you come visit me again?" a sleepy voice asked.  
  
"If you want me to, sure," Sara said kindly.  
  
"Yeah. My other friends aren't allowed to visit. They're too little," came out between yawns.  
  
"Okay. You rest now, okay? I'll see you later." She wanted to give Teresa a hug, but was afraid of hurting her.  
  
As she turned to leave, the little girl asked one last question. "You're not Hunter's momma, are you?"  
  
Sara froze. She never considered the girl would have heard the boy's dying statement. "No," she finally whispered.  
  
"I didn't think so. She came with us once on a field trip. She's not as pretty as you are," Teresa muttered as she fell asleep.  
  
Quickly grabbing the card, Sara turned to leave. Teresa's parents gave her friendly but nervous smiles. "Thanks again. I, we ..." Rita hesitated. "Teresa told us what happened. She saw you trying to help Hunter. That he thought you were his mother before he died. That you had to leave him so you could carry her out. We know how difficult this must be for you. We just want you to know that, well, you saved our lives, too. If we had lost Teresa, we'd be lost too."  
  
"Yeah," her husband added. "Look, we can't ever thank you enough for what you did. But if you ever need anything, anything at all, we'll be glad to do what we can to help. We'll never forget you," he turned around quickly to wipe away the tears, which had started again.  
  
Sara didn't know what to say. After an awkward moment, Rita wrapped her arms around her, giving her a firm, brief hug. Her husband wrapped his arms around both women, before giving each a quick kiss. Rita laughed as Sara blushed. After asking permission to visit Teresa again, Sara left.  
  
Her escape was blocked by the nurses, who wanted to thank her first for rescuing the children, then for visiting, then for bringing the presents. A rather handsome medical resident invited her to join him for coffee, but Sara turned him down with a friendly smile and a weak excuse about another appointment.  
  
As Sara headed to the elevators, she paid no attention to a woman sitting on a chair, reading a magazine. After she had passed, Lynda Darby dropped the magazine she had been hiding behind and headed to talk to the Hernandez family. She knew better than to stop Sidle. It was clear the woman wanted to get out of here. She couldn't really blame her. And Darby felt a little guilty over the lecture O'Riley had given her the night before. She'd cut the brunette some slack.  
  
Her cousin was a security guard at the hospital and she had been able to slip into the children's ward while the rest of the media had been stuck outside. She had come to the hospital that morning to see if she could get an interview with the Hernandez family. They had refused immediately after the accident, when it wasn't clear if Teresa would recover.  
  
As she saw them watching a scene in the girl's room, she waited. When she realized it was Sidle talking to the girl, the reporter discreetly took a seat in the hallway. The good thing about hospitals was that sounds carried. She had heard the entire conversation.  
  
Darby couldn't believe her luck. She had just stumbled into the biggest scoop of the year. The CSI had to leave a child behind to rescue the others. He had died in her arms, thinking she was her mother. This was a gold mine.  
  
She walked over the Hernandez family. They seemed in a much better mood, now. They'd probably be willing to talk.  
  
Darby just wished she could have caught Sidle's visit on camera. 


	11. The soul selects her own society

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 11 - The soul selects her own society   
  
Sara exited the service elevator, wiping the moisture from her eyes before throwing on her sunglasses. The glare from the desert sun wasn't helping her headache. She tilted her head in surprise when she saw Catherine's car parked beside her SUV. The blonde was leaning against the bumper.   
  
"What are you doing here?" Sara called as she crossed the parking lot.  
  
"Somebody has their cell and pager turned off," Catherine said. "I couldn't get a hold of you."  
  
"What's up? We have a case?" She hoped her voice didn't sound as desperate as she felt.  
  
Catherine chuckled. "Sorry, kiddo, you're still grounded." Sara allowed a smile to cross her face when her colleague held up a large cup of coffee in consolation.  
  
"Thanks," she said taking the steaming cup.  
  
"Thought you could use something about now. Figured I'd hold out on the booze until we got to my place," the older woman said.  
  
"Thanks, Cath, but really, I just want to go home."  
  
"I know, but there's still a bunch of reporters there. I didn't think you'd want to face that," she said kindly.  
  
Sara hung her head, giving it an aggravated shake. "You don't have to go to that trouble, Cath."  
  
"Yeah. Borrow a bed, hot water, a pot of coffee, my company. That's a lot of trouble, I know, but that's the kind of gal I am," she said in mock-seriousness.  
  
Sara looked up to study Catherine. She wasn't used to the other woman being this nice to her. They weren't really friends. Part of her mind told her to be cautious, but she didn't want to have to go through a media gauntlet to get to her apartment.  
  
"Sure," she said, sighing in defeat. It wasn't like she was planning on sleeping any time soon, anyway. What difference did it make where she stayed?  
  
"Hey, I know it's not the Ritz, but still," Catherine quipped. Sara didn't take the bait. "I'll drive. If the press sees your Tahoe in the driveway, they'll trap you inside. I know you wouldn't want that," she tried again.  
  
"Okay," was the only response.  
  
"Okay, then," Catherine said, trying to keep her frustration from showing.  
  
The older woman stole occasional glances at her companion during the drive. The brunette stared out the side window at the passing landscape. It would have been obvious even to Grissom that Sara didn't want to talk. At the least, though, she should have some warning about the latest news reports.  
  
"Have you caught the news this morning?" Catherine asked.  
  
"No," Sara answered, without looking up.  
  
"Your parents gave an interview. I think someone messed up the quotes, though," she said cautiously. Sara didn't respond. "I just thought you'd like a heads up. In case, you know, anyone asks." Still no response. "The quotes weren't ... nice," she tried again. Sara was perfectly still. This was becoming unnerving.  
  
"Sara, if you don't want to talk, that's fine. But could you at least blink or something. So I know you're still with me," Catherine said in a concerned tone.  
  
Sara turned her head slightly towards the blonde. When Catherine glanced over Sara very slowly and deliberately blinked one time, before returning to staring out the window. "Smart ass," Catherine muttered when she saw the slight smile playing on Sara's face.  
  
"What did they say this time?" Sara eventually asked.  
  
"It, ah, sounded like they weren't happy with what you've done with your life," Catherine said delicately. She didn't want to upset her colleague if it turned out the quotes weren't accurate.  
  
"Sounds like something they'd say," she said with a sad chuckle.  
  
"What!" Catherine gave her a startled look. She had expected that from her own parents? What kind of relationship did they have?  
  
"They didn't want me to go into law enforcement," Sara told her. "They don't like the police."  
  
"Why?" Catherine asked as she pulled into her driveway. She wondered if Sara was going to ignore the question. She had just shrugged her shoulders before exiting the car. Once they entered the house, they settled at the kitchen table. Catherine gave Sara a curious look.  
  
"They were hippies. They never completely outgrew it," she joked. Catherine continued to look at her. "They got busted a lot when they were younger. Drugs, sit-ins, peace marches, anti-nuclear protests, vandalized military equipment, disrupted board meetings. You name it, they were there. When they decided to go into business, they had a hard time getting loans, permits. They never felt they did anything wrong and resented the troubles it caused them later," Sara explained.  
  
"Your parents are radicals?" Catherine asked in shock.  
  
"Were. They settled down some once my older brother was born. And they freaked when they caught him with drugs. Guess they had too many friends OD," she said. When she noticed the confused look on Catherine's face, she continued: "Yeah, I always blamed the hospital for the mix-up. There's a couple of CPAs out there wondering how they ended up with a radical-vegan-lesbian-anarchist with more body piercings than teeth."  
  
Catherine smiled politely at the joke, trying to imagine Sara's childhood. What would it have been like for the by-the-book science geek to be raised by a watered-down version of Bonnie and Clyde? Could they have appreciated their daughter's gifts? They certainly didn't acknowledge the service she provided to the public.  
  
"I'm sorry, Sara," Catherine said kindly.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"That you didn't have a better home ..."  
  
"Whoa! What the hell do you know about my parents? You're not in any position to talk about them," Sara said hotly. Catherine was clearly startled by the outburst.  
  
"Sara, all I'm saying is they could be more supportive ..."  
  
"You want them to lie? Cath, honesty is one of the best traits my parents have. They aren't happy with how I live my life. It's no big secret how they feel about it. We don't agree on stuff, that's all," she said. Sara saw the other woman wasn't getting her point. "Look, Cath, let's say Lindsay grows up to be a, a murderer. You gonna be proud?"  
  
"No ..."  
  
"You gonna be bragging about her?" Sara continued the questioning before the other woman could interrupt.  
  
"No."  
  
"Are you ever going to stop loving her?" Sara asked pointedly.  
  
"Of course not. I get the picture. Sorry," Catherine said contritely. "But there is a big difference between your kid living their own life and being a criminal."  
  
Sara gave a small nod of acknowledgement to the blonde's point. "They were good parents, Cath, really. Odd, but good. We didn't have a 'normal' childhood, that's for sure. My parents weren't big on material things. Birthdays and holidays were more about spending time together, rather than gifts. We got kites and books instead of board games or dolls.  
  
"But we always knew they cared for us. I know they spent more time with us when we were kids than most parents ever do. They made sure we were a part of everything they did. We'd go for long walks in the woods, play on the beach for hours. Mom taught us how to cook. Dad showed us how to fix cars and catch frogs. They would read to us every night," Sara said fondly.  
  
"You know how to cook? Ms. Carryout?" Catherine laughed gently. That was a side of Sara she never expected to exist. The brunette gave her a dirty look.  
  
"Cath, my parents ran a very successful bed-and-breakfast. From the time I was big enough to stir a pot, I spent every weekend growing up cooking for a bunch of strangers. I can cook. I just hate to do it. It was always a chore, not something I wanted to do," she said.  
  
"So, you okay with your parents coming?" Catherine asked.  
  
"Yeah. It'll be good to see them again," Sara said, anticipating the other woman's question. "I haven't seen them since I moved out here."  
  
"That's going on three years," she said. "Is everything ... okay?" Catherine asked cautiously.  
  
"Yeah. Cath, really. It's ... we are just so different. We love each other, but I guess you could say we don't really like each other. Visits start out good, but they get ... intense ... if they go on for too long."  
  
Catherine decided it was time for this conversation to end. It wasn't a pleasant topic for the other woman. She didn't want to upset Sara any more than she already was. Catherine noticed her hands were shaking and she was pale. Given all that had happened to her over the past two days, it wasn't surprising. Not good, either. "What would you like for breakfast?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, nothing. I ate before going to the hospital," Sara said quickly. Her stomach was too twisted to even think of eating.  
  
"Why don't you go to bed then? You've got to be beat," the blonde said kindly.  
  
"Actually, I think I had too much caffeine. I need to wind down some," she said, pulling a notebook out of her bag. "I was going to start getting the messages off of my home machine. I'll sleep later."  
  
"Okay, you know where the room is," Catherine said. Something in Sara's tone caught her attention. Was she avoiding sleep so she wouldn't have a nightmare? Catherine couldn't really blame her, but she also knew that the younger woman needed to rest. Sara might be able to go days without sleep normally, but there was nothing normal about her current state.   
  
How to get the mule-headed woman to sleep was the question. A mug of hot milk would be too obvious. Alcohol would work, but despite her earlier joke, that was the last thing she'd be giving Sara. It could too easily become a crutch.  
  
"Say, I'm going to do some laundry. Why don't you go change into your pajamas and I'll toss your stuff in with mine?" Catherine asked. If Sara was more comfortable, maybe she'd fall asleep.  
  
"Okay," Sara said in confusion. The offer was unexpected, but she really didn't have a reason to turn it down.  
  
While Sara went into Lindsay's room to change, Catherine grabbed the laundry basket and threw some clothes into it, making sure to rumple them first. Taking Sara's addition, she headed into the laundry room. She hoped the younger woman would sleep soon; she wanted to do some research, but didn't want to take a chance of Sara catching her.  
  
After changing, Sara sat cross-legged on the couch and called her home number, punching in the codes to start playing back her messages. The digital voice informed her she had 99 messages. Was that the maximum the machine could hold? Sara had never come close to finding out before.  
  
While listening to message fourteen - the twelfth request for an interview - the loud squeal of tires from a near-accident down the street broke the silence. Sara jumped from the couch and dropped the cell phone as her mind added the sounds of crashing glass and shredding metal. Dropping to the floor, Sara tried desperately to stop the images of a young boy from haunting her. 


	12. Afraid? Of whom am I afraid?

Chapter 12 - "Afraid? Of what am I afraid?"  
  
Grissom slowly rose from his couch. His migraine had diminished, but his head still throbbed. He was supposed to be at Catherine's. Would they still be awake? Catherine would be. She was off last night; she always slept in on her nights off.  
  
Hopefully, Sara would be sleeping. She had only had a few hours sleep before her nightmare yesterday. Thinking of her made his head throb more.  
  
For the umpteenth time, Grissom silently berated himself for not calling Philip Kane sooner. Sara had been right when she said he had left early. His wife had an emergency appendectomy and the staff psychologist wasn't expected to be back until Friday at the earliest. He tried not to feel guilty for verifying Sara's story.  
  
Grissom waged an internal battle with himself. He couldn't believe Sara would ever hurt herself. Nothing in her personality suggested she was at risk. She had willing contacted Philip. But if the others were concerned enough to talk to him, then there had to be a reason.  
  
He groaned again as his stomach joined his head in complaining.  
  
What had Mobley said? 'We both can imagine what the inside of that bus looked like.' Grissom could easily reconstruct the interior in his mind. He had plenty of experience. The trouble was he had always investigated them as scenes, after the fact. He had never been a part of one, feeling the victim's fear or desperation.  
  
Sara was far more empathic than he was. The horror of the accident must be hell on her, he realized. When he saw the first news report, Grissom had been upset when he thought she had taken unnecessary risks. He hadn't considered the impact this would have on her.   
  
Mobley had also said he was worried about Sara. He must have had an idea what this would do to her. The cynical part of Grissom's brain told him the sheriff was just worried about the bad press the department would receive if anything happened to Sara. The rational part of his brain told him he was being petty because Mobley had understood her better than he had.  
  
Nothing was going to happen. He'd see to that. Somehow. If Philip didn't come in on Friday, then Grissom would visit him at home.  
  
Groaning, he walked slowly towards the bathroom to shower. Catherine would have a better idea of what to do in the meantime.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Catherine had heard the sound of the tires and then the phone dropping. Heading into the living room, she found Sara collapsed on the floor. As she ran over, she realized the younger woman kept softly repeating "I'm sorry". Catherine knelt and reached out to place a reassuring hand on Sara's shoulder. She collapsed back into the couch when the brunette's elbow connected her mouth.  
  
"Damn," she said, wiping the blood from her mouth. "Sara!"  
  
Catherine's determined yell caused her to look up. Seeing the blood on Catherine's mouth, she realized what she had done. Her elbow hurt. Now she knew why. "Oh, God, I'm sorry, Cath. You scared me," she whispered.  
  
"It's okay, Sara. Sorry," she said calmly. If she'd scared Sara, then she didn't want to know the name of the emotion Sara was causing her to feel. The usually calm scientist was a wreck. She was deadly pale, as if she had seen a ghost. Her breath was coming in ragged, uneven gasps. Fear clearly showed in her eyes.  
  
Neither paid attention to the knocking.  
  
"I'm sorry, Cath, I'm so sorry," Sara said, beginning to tremble. Making sure the other woman was watching her movements, Catherine moved to the couch, then reached down to pull Sara up beside her. She took the afghan off of the back of the sofa and wrapped in snuggly around the brunette. It was partly to comfort her and partly to trap her arms.  
  
"Sara, it's okay. Really. Really," the blonde reassured her. "I understand. I do."  
  
Sara shook her head negatively. Catherine reached a gentle hand to brush the hair out of her eyes. "Hey, remember me? I'm the one who had to pull her little girl out of a submerged car. I was a wreck for days afterwards. I had flashbacks. I had nightmares. Hell, I probably even took some pot-shots at co-workers who didn't deserve it," she said trying to calm Sara down.  
  
"You never drew blood," she answered, although she wouldn't look at Catherine.  
  
"Doesn't mean it didn't hurt. And at least you apologized," she said gently, ignoring her cell phone.  
  
Sara fought to bring her breathing back to something approaching a normal pattern. "God, Cath, I feel like I'm going crazy. I'm moody. I'm shaky. One minute I'm fine, and then the next I'm remembering details about the accident I didn't even know I knew to be remembering," she paused, trying to parse out that last sentence. Catherine smiled at her. "I'm babbling incoherently and beating up my co-workers."  
  
"Believe it or not, Sara, you're not crazy. You're just human. We do things like this from time to time," she told her. "You're having a normal reaction to stress. It sucks, but it's normal. It gets better, Sara, believe me."  
  
A loud pounding on the front door finally got their attention. "Catherine! Open the door!" Grissom bellowed.  
  
"God! Why him?" Sara muttered as she hurried to the bathroom.  
  
"Catherine! I'm calling for backup! I'll ..." he stopped when Catherine opened the door. She stared at his hand; it was resting on his gun.  
  
"What happened? I heard you yell. Are you hurt? Where's Sara? Is she okay?" Grissom asked, quickly stepping into the doorway, his eyes scanning frantically.  
  
Catherine suppressed her laughter. His series of questions had come out as a single non-stop statement. It was a telling action from the usually stoic man.  
  
"I spooked Sara. I didn't really yell. I made accidental contact with her elbow. She's in the bathroom. She's a mess. Come in before the neighbors call the police," she said, pulling him the rest of the way in.  
  
"Catherine, what's going on?" His tone was clearly concerned. He led her into the kitchen where he soaked a towel with cold water. She took it when he moved to wipe up the blood.  
  
"Sounded like there was an accident up the road. It must have spooked Sara. I came to check on her and didn't think. Came up behind her. I spooked her more. She accidentally hit me. She's in the bathroom," Catherine explained in more detail, gingerly wiping up the blood. "She's upset, Gil, and I think she's embarrassed that you caught her in this mood."  
  
"Sara hit you," he whispered.  
  
"Relax, Gil, she didn't mean it. Come on. Given the severity of the accident, all the stress the media attention is causing and her lack of sleep, I think it's perfectly understandable," she said, tilting her head to observe her friend. "You really are worried, aren't you?"  
  
Grissom turned to look at her in surprise. "Catherine, I was ready to agree with Nick that there's no reason to worry. You're the one who sided with Warrick," he snapped. He wasn't able to hold her glare. Why did people think he was uncaring? "Of course, I'm worried. First Warrick, then you and Brass, then Al."  
  
"What about Al?" Catherine inquired. Someone else noticed troubles?  
  
"He came by after you left. There was an ... incident ... in the morgue earlier. It was enough to make Doc worried," he explained.  
  
"What kind of incident?" Catherine said, trying to keep her voice calm.  
  
"I really don't know. Sara came down and asked if all the kids were dead before the fire. Al said something must have happened that made her worry she left one of them behind," he said, running his hands through his hair. "I don't know what to do. I don't want to do anything wrong."  
  
Catherine gave her friend a look of pity. He'd never bear the guilt if anything happened to Sara. "It's okay, Gil. She'll be fine. Be patient," she said, giving his hand a friendly squeeze.  
  
This was the position Sara found them when she exited the bathroom later.  
  
"Didn't realized this was where you spent all your free time, Grissom," she said shortly.  
  
"Yeah, right," Catherine snorted derisively. "Like that would ever happen." She just shrugged at Grissom's hurt expression. At least now he understood her earlier comment about his tone of voice when denying a relationship with Sara.  
  
She watched as Sara and Grissom just stared at each other. Maybe they would talk in a more private setting. "I've got to check on the wash, guys. Behave while I'm gone," she said, ducking back into the laundry room.  
  
Sara stood leaning against the counter, arms crossed angrily across her chest. Her wet hair and pajamas ruined the image she was trying to project. Neither spoke.   
  
Grissom was unsure what to say. He was afraid to speak. His heart was still racing. He thought he had heard Catherine yell. No one answered his knocking, then she wouldn't answer the phone. Finding her bloody didn't help his nerves any. Facing an angry Sara wasn't reassuring, either.  
  
"Why are you here?" Sara finally broke the silence. Her voice was oddly calm.  
  
"I wanted to talk to Catherine," he said. "And I wanted to check up on you."  
  
"Really," she said, her tone carrying her disbelief.  
  
"Yes," he said, giving her a kind smile. "I'm worried about my friend. Is that so hard to believe?"  
  
"From you? Now? Yeah, it is," Sara answered honestly. She rolled her eyes at the look of hurt that crossed his face. "Grissom, you practically ignore me for a year, and when you do pay attention to me it was almost always to jump down my throat. You've spent more time with me, said more nice things to me, in the last two days than the past twelve months combined. Yeah, I'm suspicious," she said.  
  
Catherine crept back into the room. She hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn. "Hey, guys, it's getting late. Sara, why don't you get some sleep? Don't tell me you don't need it. I have a kid; you can't win that argument with me," she said, grabbing Sara by the arm and dragging her to the bedroom.   
  
Sara closed the door before the other woman could make any comments. Catherine gave a short growl of frustration. She debated entering the room, but decided it would be better to give Sara some room for time being. When Catherine came back into the kitchen, Grissom had already shown himself out. The blonde let out a loud sigh. Now she had both of them to deal with.  
  
In Lindsay's room, Sara sank to the floor and leaned against the door. It didn't have a lock, but she doubted Catherine would have the strength to force it open. She just wanted to be alone 


	13. Read, sweet, how others strove

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. The chapter titles are opening lines from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Am I going to have to pull a Burked and threaten not to post more until people start posting reviews? Come on folks, it's the only way I have of knowing if anyone's bothering to read this! Please? :-)  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 13 - Read, sweet, how others strove  
  
Time moved slowly for Sara. Staring at the bedside clock, she mentally willed it to move faster. Failing that endeavor, she silently cursed herself for leaving her cell phone in the living room; not that Catherine gave her much choice in the matter. With it, she could have at least continued going through her phone messages.   
  
She wasn't going to cross Catherine to get it, though. She wasn't in any mood to deal with her blonde colleague. After her confrontation with Grissom, she was sure Catherine would want to grill her for answers. Or offer her a shoulder to cry on.  
  
Why was everyone so friendly all of the sudden? Well, Warrick was just being his normal, sensitive self. Luckily Greg was on vacation, because she was in no mood for his contributions at this point. At least Nicky was treating her the same as always.  
  
She couldn't get Catherine. The woman had made it clear since the beginning she didn't want her on the team. They worked well together, but that was it. Luckily, the press hadn't found out her colleague thought she was incompetent. Sara shook her head. Catherine had just apologized, in her own non-apologetic way. It didn't make sense. Grissom must have put her up to it.  
  
The thought of her supervisor made her head hurt more. What was going on? She meant what she had said; she was suspicious of his behavior. He had barely talked to her since she took the initiative and asked him out to dinner. Now, suddenly, he was being extremely supportive. It was confusing.   
  
There was a time when Sara thought she could have counted on Grissom for anything. Since moving to Vegas, she found herself re-evaluating that assessment. Still, he had been supportive, even kind, these past couple of days. It was a nice change of pace that she had probably just destroyed. Not that it would have lasted long anyway. She would apologize tonight. Maybe he would pretend to care for a little longer.  
  
Listening at the door, Sara could just make out the sound of the printer. Catherine was still awake. She considered calling a taxi after her host went to bed so she could go home. Sara rejected that idea once she realized Catherine still had her clothes. Knowing the older woman, she wouldn't return them until after forcing Sara to eat a healthy meal. The thought of food made her stomach twist.  
  
A plan to go ahead and leave in just her pajamas was squelched when she realized there would be no way for her to enter her apartment without passing the reporters. The last thing she wanted was more publicity, especially with comments describing her sanity.  
  
Looking at the clock, she groaned when she realized that only a minute had past. It felt like hours. Even in her current condition it only took her a moment to calculate the gravitational effect necessary to generate that type of time dilation.  
  
She turned her attention to Lindsay's room. A wide assortment of toys was neatly stored on the shelves. Sara had never had such a variety or abundance of toys growing up. She had no idea what an average little girl played with. Getting up, Sara examined the selection in more detail, looking for ideas. She'd pick up Teresa another present when she went back to visit.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Warrick wandered down the Strip. The open doors of the casinos were a temptation. It would be so easy to fall back into that habit. It wasn't as if he suffered; his ability to count cards gave him a decided edge. He almost always came out comfortably ahead. Common sense kept him from winning too large of a jackpot; why draw attention that would get him blackballed?  
  
He continued his trek without entering any of the casinos. It had cost him professionally, though. He missed work to place bets. Holly would probably still be alive if not for him.  
  
Self-destructive habits were a subject with which he had had too much experience. Warrick vowed to not let Sara start any.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Catherine printed another article. So far, her research had yielded little new information. As she had told Sara earlier, mood swings, nervousness and nightmares were all common symptoms for someone experiencing severe stress. The blonde knew she had had her share of them following Eddie's death and Lindsay's rescue.  
  
But another symptom was avoidance: the deliberate distancing of friends and co-workers. It was a "safety" mechanism. Keep people at a distance and they won't ask about the accident. Don't talk about it and you won't relive it. Except this "safety" was dangerous. Repressing memories didn't make them go away. And the self-imposed isolation could aggravate any accompanying depression.  
  
Sighing, Catherine wondered if the incident earlier in the kitchen was an attempt at avoidance. If it were, it'd probably work. Grissom wasn't one to get involved easily in personal matters, and being shot down like that would make him gun-shy about trying again.  
  
Except Sara had started to open up. She had been quiet in the car, but eventually she had talked to Catherine. If Grissom hadn't arrived when he had, she probably could have gotten the younger woman to talk more. The man had terrible timing.  
  
So, if it wasn't avoidance, what was it? Sara was normally a very strong, independent, stable person. To be stuck relying on co-workers would be hard enough on her. To be caught as a nervous wreck would be terribly embarrassing.  
  
Another possibility was Sara had just finally run out of patience with Grissom. Catherine couldn't really blame her; she loved her friend dearly, but didn't think she could bear to be in love with him.  
  
Whether a quirk of personality or a remnant of personal history, Grissom didn't open himself to others. He was an enigma. After more than a decade of working together, her friend continued to surprise Catherine.  
  
She knew that he was both awkward and uncomfortable with personal interactions. That hadn't stopped him from trying to help Sara. Catherine hoped he'd try again.  
  
She hadn't told Grissom, but she was beginning to worry. Finding Sara on the floor apologizing to an empty room had been frightening by itself. What did she have to apologize for? And to whom? The knowledge that something had happened in the morgue which was enough to concern Dr. Robbins added to Catherine's concern. She found herself agreeing with the coroner's assessment: something had happened on that bus.  
  
Sighing again, Catherine debated asking Sara directly. There was no sound coming from Lindsay's room. Hopefully, she was asleep. Even if she wasn't, Sara probably wasn't in the mood to talk right now. She'd ask later.  
  
Heading to the kitchen, she grabbed another ice bag for her busted lip. Luckily, none of her teeth were loose. Checking on the laundry, Catherine folded the dry clothes and placed them in her bedroom. She didn't want Sara sneaking out in her condition.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
The ringing phone interrupted the day-shift coroner. He wasn't surprised that the questions regarded the school bus accident - the press had been calling consistently - but the specific nature of Darby's inquiries made him curious. He answered the questions perfunctorily; he really didn't have the answers she was looking for. Once he finished the call, he contacted Al Robbins. Perhaps he had a clue what was going on.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Grissom lay in his bed staring at the ceiling. His migraine taunted him. It wouldn't go away, nor would it get bad enough to justify using the medication that would knock him out.  
  
Letting out a groan, he replayed the conversation in his mind again. When had she become angry? Sara had been moody earlier at work, but she had been apologetic whenever she snapped. Overall, they had gotten along better than they had since ...   
  
Had it really been a year? When was the last time, other than after the explosion, that he had been friendly to her? His head throbbed more.  
  
Grissom had wanted to isolate himself, to protect himself. It was irrational, but he had hoped he could avoid his hearing troubles. But Sara knew him too well, was too observant of him. She would have eventually realized something was wrong. He couldn't ignore it once she found out. Sara wouldn't let him.  
  
And there were other ... issues. Grissom couldn't deny he was attracted to Sara. His mind supplied a litany of reasons why he shouldn't feel that way: she was too young; too emotional; they came from different backgrounds; he was her supervisor.  
  
It ignored the obvious: she was dangerous. If he let her in, Sara could hurt him. Once she was in, Grissom wouldn't want her out. Any pain he felt in the past would be minor compared to what she could do to him.  
  
So he shut her out. He hadn't meant to hurt Sara, but apparently he had. Why had she waited until their conversation in the kitchen to broach it, though? Well, Catherine had warned him that visiting the little girl was a dangerous idea. Maybe it had stressed Sara even more.  
  
Rubbing his eyes, he tried to figure out what to do. His brain screamed that he should back off; she didn't want him around, anyway. It was falling back on that standby that got him in this mess to begin with.  
  
Sara was an usually self-reliant woman. But now the one time she needed a friend the most, and she didn't think he counted. And Grissom knew he had no one to blame but himself. He tried to figure out how to solve the problem until a ringing phone interrupted him.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Nick put down the photo album. He and Danny McGregor hadn't been close friends, but the guy had lived just two doors down. Even now, after years of training, Nick couldn't think of any sign, any clue, Danny had ever given that he was going to kill himself.  
  
What could have driven him to do that? Danny had it all: looks, personality, intelligence, a close family, more friends than most, a bright future. If someone with no apparent troubles could take their own life, what would prevent someone under duress from trying it?  
  
He picked up the collection of photos he had saved from the newspapers. They had been destined to enter another album. Flipping through the pages, he realized how few photos he had of Sara. Nick set the press clippings aside. Right now, those weren't how he wanted to remember her.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Lynda Darby quickly filed her story. This was risky: printing an overheard conversation would make her incredibly unpopular with the police. She'd lose, at least temporarily, most of her contacts. Even her cousin wouldn't be able to get her into the hospital again.  
  
But this could be a career-maker. She could easily be on her way to one of the major dailies, possibly even the AP.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Across town, a young girl stirred uneasily in her sleep. The readout on one of the monitors attached to her body began a slow but steady climb upwards. 


	14. If I can stop one heart from breaking

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 14 - If I can stop one heart from breaking  
  
Nature won the eventual battle of the wills. Sara slipped silently into the bathroom, angrily recalling each cup of coffee she had drank that day. Catherine was still awake and Lindsay would be home shortly. She doubted the older woman would go to sleep once her daughter was there; they didn't have enough hours together.  
  
Washing her face, Sara looked up and shuddered when the brown eyes in the mirror weren't her own. "Dammit," she muttered. She hadn't left him behind. He died. She knew it. She had ... Oh, god. Oh, god. She hadn't. Sara reached the toilet in time as her stomach emptied itself. She rested her head against the cool porcelain. How could she have forgotten?  
  
Seeing no point in continuing her pretense of sleeping, Sara wandered into the living room in time to see Catherine shutting down the computer. A quick scan of the room didn't show what she wanted.  
  
"Can I have my clothes, Cath?" Sara asked impatiently. She had to get out.  
  
"Did you sleep?" Catherine asked in a concerned voice. Sara was pale, even by her normal standards. The older woman had heard her in the bathroom.  
  
"I'm not your kid," the brunette informed her bluntly.  
  
"Thank God for that," Catherine said, smiling at the shocked look that crossed the younger woman's face. "Then I'd be as old as I feel right now."  
  
"Did you sleep?" Sara asked with fake sincerity. Play along. Get out.  
  
"Like a baby," the blonde answered. "Last night, anyway. Your clothes are in the laundry basket beside my bed."  
  
Giving her a knowing look and muttering about illegal detention, Sara headed down the hall to find her clothes. She settled on the jeans she wore earlier that morning and the shirt from the day before. It took several minutes to bring her hair under control; she had let it dry in a jumble. A quick look in the mirror convinced her of the folly of makeup. Nothing short of using a spatula to apply it would cover her obvious exhaustion.  
  
When she finally wandered back into the kitchen she was shocked to find Grissom sitting at the kitchen table nursing a glass of ice water. Catherine leaned against the wall, her eyes flashing between her two companions.  
  
"Hi, Sara," he said shyly. Or warily.  
  
"Grissom," she said in surprise. "I, uhm, I wasn't expecting you back."  
  
He shrugged, sipping his water slowly. Sara doubted he came to see her. "Do you two need to talk? I can leave," she asked hopefully, pointing to Catherine.  
  
"No," Grissom said. Sara watched him. He seemed uncomfortable, but with Grissom it was often hard to tell. Catching her examination, he quickly finished off his water. "Want to take a drive?" he asked, getting up to move towards her.  
  
"What?" Why would he want to go for a drive? With her?  
  
"A drive? Get out, get some fresh air?" Grissom leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Get us out of Cath's hair, let her have some time with Lindsay without babysitting us."  
  
Sara stared at him in confusion before finally agreeing. She needed to apologize for her earlier outburst and it'd be easier without an audience. It would be good to get away from Vegas, the memories. The guilt. Once in the SUV, Grissom handed her a cold bottle of ginger ale and opened another for himself. "Stomach's upset," was the only explanation he offered. She took it gratefully.  
  
Within minutes they were on their way to the Toiyabe National Forest to the west of the city. The gentle breeze coming through the open windows was the only noise.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Grissom," Sara said once they were in the open desert. She couldn't bring herself to watch his reaction.  
  
"For what?" he asked, taking a long sip from his drink. Sara sounded so desolate.  
  
Sara turned to look at him in confusion. He didn't know. She couldn't tell him. "I don't know. Maybe for being a bitch? I shouldn't have said those things to you earlier," she settled on.  
  
"Is that how you really feel? What you really believe?" Grissom asked hesitantly. When she didn't answer, he took a longer sip from his drink and nodded his head gently.  
  
"I guess I don't blame you. From your perspective, I wasn't being very nice to you," he said slowly, as if trying out each word mentally before actually voicing it.  
  
"Sara, I was having some ... issues. It had nothing to do with you, or with work. I didn't mean for you to bear the brunt of it, but I guess you did. I'm sorry," he continued in the same cautious tone. "I don't blame you for not trusting me. I don't know how to regain your trust. I just want you to know if you need someone to talk to, well, I'm willing. Don't expect any brilliant insights or great advise, but I'll listen."  
  
He took occasional glances, trying to judge her reaction. She stared straight ahead for the next several miles. "Have your ... issues ... been resolved?" Sara eventually asked, mimicking his own cautious tone.  
  
"Pretty much," he said, turning slightly to give her a wry smile. "I just need to repair the collateral damage."  
  
Sara gave him a brief smile before turning her attention back to the road. Grissom finished the remainder of his ginger ale in one swig. After several minutes, she turned her eyes toward him. "Thanks, Grissom. I'll, I'll remember that," Sara said. She couldn't hold his eye, and turned away quickly. "It's, uhm, I'm not ready. To talk."  
  
"Okay. But when you are, I'm here, if you need me," he said softly.  
  
"Thanks," she yawned.  
  
"Sure," he said. "You know, the vacation offer still stands. If you want it."  
  
"I can't go, Grissom," she said softly.  
  
"Why not, Sara?" he asked gently. When she didn't answer immediately, he glanced her way and saw her wiping away tears. He wondered if this was a safe topic to cover.  
  
"I'm afraid," she finally said in a voice so quiet he barely heard her. "I'm afraid I won't come back. If I leave now, if they chase me away, I won't come back. Not to the lab, not to Vegas, probably not even back to forensics. I, I don't want that." She turned to stare out the window. "Can we drop this?" Her tone clearly carried her embarrassment.  
  
"No problem," he said just as softly, glad she wanted to drop the subject. He had no idea how to reply. Grissom never expected that answer. Noticing an approaching sign, he reached over to nudge her arm and pointed to it. "Want to pull over and hit a walking trail?"  
  
"Do you mind if we just drive for awhile?" Sara asked between yawns.  
  
"As long as you want. Just let me know when you want to go back," he said.  
  
She nodded her thanks, yawning again. Within minutes, she was asleep.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Catherine watched as the SUV pulled away. A reporter's questions had initiated a series of phone calls which had ended with Grissom tracking down Philip Kane who was visiting his wife at the hospital.  
  
Now, the usually remote man was taking Sara for a drive after she had brusquely turned down his earlier attempt at help. Grissom continued to surprise Catherine; she would have thought he would have avoided Sara after their earlier confrontation. She was glad to be wrong.  
  
Grissom hadn't had time to go into details, but he said that Kane didn't seem overly concerned about Sara's behavior. He did agree that it sounded like Sara hadn't told them everything about the accident, but insisted that was normal.  
  
But the psychologist didn't know about the incident in Catherine's living room that morning. She didn't want to aggravate the already nervous Grissom, so she hadn't told him the entire story. It seemed like a good idea at the time.  
  
Sara had been worried in the morgue that she had left a child behind. She kept apologizing to thin air. A reporter was seeking specific information on just one of the children's deaths. Catherine didn't like where the evidence was pointing. Except it didn't make sense. Sara would never have left a child behind. At the very least, she would have told the rescue crews.  
  
But if something had happened, how could the reporter have found out? That didn't make any sense. Sara obviously hadn't talked. Could some of the parents be behind the story? It'd be natural for grief-striken parents to wonder why their child hadn't survived.  
  
Natural, but it would still be hell on Sara.  
  
She didn't want to think what she would be like if she ever lost Lindsay. She had been rattled enough by last year's accident. Catherine's dark mood was broken by the sound of her daughter's laughter as she ran into the house. Sweeping the young girl into a big hug, she kissed her cheek.  
  
"Hey, sweetheart," she whispered.  
  
"What happened, Mommy?" Lindsay asked when she saw her mother's face.  
  
"Nothing to worry about," Catherine said, not believing a word of it.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
It was well after sunset before the Tahoe pulled into a gas station. Sara was still asleep. Grissom had briefly considered taking her back to Catherine's house. He rejected that idea when he realized that even if he could manage to carry Sara inside without hurting one or both of them, he couldn't do it without waking her.  
  
Instead, he spent the last several hours meandering around the desert, considering his next move. Al's phone call had been the trigger which sent him searching out the staff psychologist for advice. The specific nature of the reporter's questions and Sara's earlier reaction had concerned the coroner enough to contact Grissom.  
  
He had tracked down Kane looking for reassurance. The friendly psychologist explained that Sara's behaviors, while startling, weren't uncommon and by themselves nothing to be overly alarmed about. If they persisted or worsened, then it could be the sign of a serious condition. Kane assured him that he would contact Sara in the morning. Ironically, Grissom found the doctor's lack of concern to be frustrating rather than comforting.  
  
Seeing his reaction, Kane tried to reassure him. He explained that it had been his idea to keep Sara's exposure to the media minimal once he realized the story was going to explode. Also, he told Mobley to keep Sara away from any crime scenes until further notice. This would give Sara time to decompress and keep her from seeing something which could trigger a flashback.  
  
Kane added it would be normal for Sara to not talk about everything, especially the most traumatic experiences, right away. He told Grissom not to push Sara, but to be available if she wanted to talk. He also told him to be patient and not to take any anger personally. It was a mechanism the mind used as it tried to come to grips with what had happened.  
  
Grissom had trouble with that last bit of advice. It might be a normal reaction, but he realized that in his case it was also justified. He had hoped to bridge Sara's mistrust by explaining his past behavior. Even he found his attempt lacking. Still, she seemed to take him at his word.  
  
While filling the gas tank, he quickly called Catherine to tell her Sara was asleep and he would bring her to work later. Grissom stifled a groan when his stomach began complaining again. The mixture of hunger and nausea was an uncomfortable mix. Paying for the gas, he picked up another bottle of ginger ale. Pepto-Bismol would probably be more effective, but he didn't want Sara to know how upset she was making him.  
  
Their trek across the desert had eventually swung north, where he skirted the Air Force ranges and headed east. That had taken them in the direction of Lake Mead. They would both need to eat before returning to the lab. Checking the time, Grissom headed towards a water-side restaurant. It was off-season and there wouldn't be a crowd. He thought it was a shame he hadn't taken Sara here before she became a vegetarian. She would have liked the calamari.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
David Philips yawned deeply as he changed into his scrubs. Robbins had called him in early, but hadn't said why. Entering the morgue, he was surprised to find both his supervisor and the day shift coroner examining the charred remains of one of the bus accident victims.  
  
"David, good. We have a lot of work to do," Robbins said urgently. He seemed unusually tense. "We need to find out everything, and I mean everything, we can about how this boy died." 


	15. That short, potential stir

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 15 - That short, potential stir  
  
A loud burst of laughter woke Sara up. The noise was too jarring a sound to fit in with her dream. It started as a memory out of her childhood, a day spent on the beach. Her parents walking down the beach, staying just on the edge of the waves, watching Sara hunting for seashells. Her older brother trying to impress the local girls. The warmth from the sun and from her family chasing away the chill coming off the water. The day ended as it usually did, with the family gathered around a driftwood fire, settling down for a picnic dinner.  
  
But as the sun set, the temperature dropped and the fire offered no resistance against the darkness. Sara was no longer a child. She was alone on the desolate beach, with sad, brown eyes watching her accusingly from the flames.  
  
Shivering despite the warm night air, Sara scanned her surroundings in confusion. She was alone. In a SUV. Windows down, doors unlocked. Near water. In a parking lot. By a restaurant. Her mind pieced the clues together as the mental fog lifted. Grissom must have gone inside to eat. Yawning, Sara checked her watch, surprised at how long she had slept.  
  
At least the passersby had woke her before her dream turned into a full-fledge nightmare. And luckily, Grissom hadn't been there to see it. She couldn't bear to disappoint him any more.  
  
Her stomach growled. She debated going inside to join him. The thought of a real meal was very appealing. But Grissom had left her here. Well, he had made it clear in the past he didn't want to have dinner with her.  
  
Now, after what she had done, she couldn't blame him for not wanting to associate with her. Who would?  
  
Hopefully, he wouldn't be too angry with all the time he had wasted on her. Sara hoped he had had time to sleep before coming to see her. She hadn't meant to fall asleep. She hadn't meant to snap at him earlier. She hadn't meant to confess her fears.  
  
She hadn't meant to do a lot of things, but that didn't change the fact she had. And the results were as permanent as the grave.  
  
Sniffing, she wiped at the tears forming, angry and embarrassed at her lack of control. She couldn't do anything right. Looking up, she saw Grissom leave the restaurant and head towards the Tahoe. Sara quickly tried to pull herself together.  
  
Surprisingly, he came straight to her door, giving her a smile when he realized she was awake.  
  
"Sara, glad to see you're awake. I wasn't sure I could bring myself to do it. You looked too restful," he said kindly. "Come on, we still have time to eat before heading to the lab," Grissom said as he opened the door.  
  
"You haven't eaten yet?" Sara asked in disbelief, unable to comprehend his behavior.  
  
"Of course not. I wouldn't leave you behind," he said, moving to help her out.  
  
"Uhm, Grissom, I'm not really dressed for this place," she said, noticing the attire of the parking lot's other inhabitants. "I'm a mess."  
  
Cocking his head, Grissom gave her a confused look. "You're fine," he stated. "It's casual."  
  
Sara watched him in confusion. Was he blind or trying to be considerate? "Uhm, you go ahead, Grissom. I'll wait," she said, cursing her stomach as it growled loudly.  
  
He watched her carefully. "You need to eat, Sara. An actual meal, not a collection of snacks," he said, keeping his voice soft but firm.  
  
"You can just bring me something out," she said.  
  
"Sara, they don't have a drive-thru," he said, pulling her gently out of the SUV. He held onto her arms as the circulation returned to her legs. "Come on, they'll have our table ready by now."  
  
"Our table?"  
  
"Yeah. That's where I was. I thought you might want some privacy. I asked the manager to sit us on the deck. It's usually closed this time of year, but it's a warm night."  
  
Sara let him lead her to the deck at the rear of the building, glad they didn't have to go through the dining room. The deck was deserted, a lone table set next to the railing. Soft jazz drifted from the restaurant. Moonlight reflected off the smooth surface of Lake Mead, complimenting the soft light from the oil lamp on the table.  
  
Any other man, any other time and the effect would have been incredibly romantic. With Grissom, now, it merely added to Sara's confusion. She didn't deserve this.  
  
"I hope iced tea is okay. The food here is excellent but their coffee is terrible," he said, pulling out a chair for her. Sara nodded and silently let him push her chair in. He glanced towards the building and smiled. "I order some appetizers. That looks like them, now."  
  
Their waitress gave them a friendly smile, set down a tray of assorted fried vegetables and cheese sticks and left a single menu besides Sara. "I always get the calamari," Grissom offered in explanation. When she made no move to pick up the menu, he reached out and brushed her arm. "Sara? You have to eat something."  
  
His pleading tone broke her reverie. "Okay," she said reaching for the menu, trying to figure out what she had done to deserve this much care. Finally, her curiosity won. "Grissom? Why are we here?"  
  
"To eat," he said in confusion. Grissom watched her carefully. He couldn't understand why she seemed so shocked by having dinner. Well, Kane said mood swings were common. Maybe she hadn't slept well in the Tahoe.  
  
"You don't have to do this," she said with an odd expression.  
  
"Sara, we were in the area. We needed to eat. It's a quiet spot where we won't be bothered. The location is nice, it's a pleasant night, the food is good. Just enjoy it," Grissom said gently.  
  
The smell from the food was enough for her stomach to overrule her brain. She could analyze this later; for now she needed to eat. Scanning the menu, she reached over to sample the appetizers, but hesitated, looking up at Grissom. "Help yourself. I've ordered it for both of us," he smiled.  
  
She returned it shyly. It grew when she tasted the food. "I told you it was good," he laughed, glad that something was making her happy. "They put too much basil in their marinara, if you're thinking about the pasta."  
  
"I like basil," came out automatically. Their waitress returned with a basket of bread, a spare carafe of tea and took Sara's order for lasagna. "I thought you always get the squid," she said when the silence grew too heavy.  
  
"I do. Now. I've been coming here occasionally for years," he said.  
  
"Oh," Sara said, uncertain what to add. "Uhm, well..."  
  
"Sara, if you don't want to talk, that's fine. Don't feel like you need to make small talk for my benefit," he said. "I'm used to eating without conversation."  
  
"So am I," the brunette said so softly Grissom barely heard her. Giving herself a slight shake, Sara continued in a louder voice. "There's a difference when there's no conversation because you're eating by yourself, though."  
  
Grissom snapped his head up. This was the perfect opening. Kane had suggested sharing experiences with Sara could help encourage her to open up. While it couldn't count as traumatic, he hoped she would recognize the significance of his sharing. Maybe it would help her understand his earlier behavior.  
  
"That's true," he said, licking his lips nervously, waiting until their server left their salads. "But that wasn't what I meant." Grissom swallowed. Why was it so hard to do this? Others never seemed to have a problem. But if there was a chance it could help Sara, he'd try.  
  
"My mother lost her hearing when I was young. It was just the two of us. I'm used to silence," he said, watching Sara for her reaction.  
  
"That's how you learned sign language," she said softly.  
  
He nodded. "My mother learned to read lips, but that's tricky. It's far easier to use sign language. But it's awkward trying to eat and sign at the same time. We tended to talk after meals, rather than during them."  
  
Sara remained silent for a long time, devouring her salad. She pieced together bits of information from over the years. Finally, she looked up and waited until he matched her glance. "Is it hereditary?"  
  
"Yes," he said. At first he was surprised, but then recalled that he had avoided her so she wouldn't figure it out.  
  
"Your ... issues?" Sara asked cautiously. Even if she hadn't already known that Grissom was uncomfortable with personal situations, she would have recognized the obvious tension in his body language. Still, he had brought it up.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You said it was resolved," Sara said in a questioning tone.  
  
"Surgery. It fixed most of the damage," he explained, quickly ripping a piece of bread.  
  
"I'm glad," she said, before recalling a conversation they had had when investigating the death of the deaf college student. "Not that it would change who you are. It would be harder for you to do your job, though. If it hadn't worked," she added quickly.  
  
He smiled, glad of her answer. "I know. That's why I decided to get the surgery," Grissom said. "There was a risk. I could have completely lost my hearing. If it hadn't worked," he said when he saw her quizzical look.  
  
They settled into silence again after the waitress brought out their meals. This time, though, it didn't carry the earlier tension. After declining dessert, Sara's doubts started to return. When the waitress brought the bill, she realized she had left her bag at Catherine's home. "Griss, I'll have to pay you later. Sorry."  
  
"Don't worry about it, Sara. I've got it," he said. "You're cheap."  
  
"What?" Even though her tone was soft, Grissom heard the confusion and pain.  
  
"A cheap date. Vegetarian. No meat. Cheap," he explained, trying not to panic. He didn't want to upset her. He hung his head, pursing his lips. "I'm sorry, Sara. That came out terribly."  
  
"It's okay," she said, embarrassed.  
  
"No, it's not. I wanted you to have a nice meal, without having to worry about this whole mess. I ruined that," he said contritely.  
  
"No. Don't blame yourself for my mess, Grisssom," she said harshly, before closing her eyes. "I'm sorry. For everything," she said, letting out a sigh. He gave her a confused look. "I'm pretty useless right now. I can't do anything right. I can't help at work. I just hurt people. You, Catherine." Children.  
  
"Sara, that's not true. Don't be so hard on yourself," Grissom said. She turned sad eyes to him. Why was he doing this?  
  
"I mean it, Grissom. I'm sorry. What I said earlier. In the Tahoe. I'm, I'm not leaving. You don't have to worry. You didn't have to do this," she said sincerely as they headed to the Tahoe. Right now work was all she had. She couldn't lose that, too.  
  
"Sara, it's all right. I didn't mind. Really," Grissom said, turning towards her. They were alone. She wouldn't look at him. "Really," he repeated, cupping her chin to lift her head up. The look of sadness and doubt in her eyes dug at him. After a moment's hesitation, Grissom pulled her into a gentle hug.  
  
Sara tensed at the action. It was too unexpected. But then she relaxed and leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Grissom was surprised at how natural it felt. After a few minutes, she pulled back. Reaching up to caress his cheek, she whispered "Thank you" with more sincerity than he ever thought two words could carry.  
  
The ride back to the lab was silent. Sara closed her eyes, hating herself for giving into her weakness, but it had felt so good to think he cared, to allow herself to believe that fantasy. She'd be alone again, soon enough.  
  
He'd hate her once her learned the truth. She hated herself. 


	16. At last to be identified!

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 16 - At last to be identified!  
  
The drive back to the lab had been quiet and uneventful. Grissom's mind kept drifting back to the feel of Sara's body in his arms, occasionally stealing glances at the woman sitting beside him. If she hadn't been so tense, he would have smiled at the memories. Well, there would be time for more memories later.  
  
Pulling into the garage, he let Sara out and went to park in the lot. Reaching into the back, he removed a stack of old forensic journals. Grissom had selected some of his favorite articles that examined unusual cases or interesting evidence. If Sara got bored again tonight, at least he had something that could help alleviate it.  
  
Dropping the magazines in his office, Grissom headed to the break room for coffee. He found Sara going through that night's offerings from the public. The amount was decreasing. "What came tonight?" he asked, causing her to jump. "Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you."  
  
Sara blushed deeply and muttered something so softly he couldn't make out what she said. He realized how embarrassing her nervousness must be. "It's okay," she finally said aloud, wrapping her arms around herself.  
  
"It'll get better, Sara. It just takes time," he said kindly, wondering why she was giving him such a disbelieving look. After taking a deep breath, she handed him a gilded envelope.  
  
"For you," she said softly. "For all you did tonight."  
  
Opening the envelope, he found a gift certificate for L'Bonhomme, one of the city's more exclusive restaurants. He looked at her. "When do you want to go?"  
  
"What?" Sara looked completely shocked. Grissom regretted the bluntness he had used to turn down her dinner request months ago. She still didn't trust him, apparently.  
  
"When do you want to go?" Grissom repeated with a gentle smile. "It's good for dinner for two."  
  
"I gave it you, Grissom. Take someone you want to go with," she said without any rancor.  
  
"I think I just asked someone I want to go with," he replied.  
  
Sara crossed her arms to stare at him in a mixture of confusion and pain. Before Grissom could think of anything to say, Catherine wandered in, yawning deeply. She glanced from one to the other, raising an enquiring eyebrow at Grissom. Walking over, she handed Sara her bag and cell phone. "Hey. Thought you might want these back," she said kindly.  
  
"Thanks," Sara said, waiting a few moments before breaking her contact with Grissom. "Here, Cath. For you and Linds," the brunette moved through a stack of envelopes before picking some out.  
  
Catherine took them with a curious expression. "Full spa service at Mandalay Bay and passes to the Tangier's amusement park," she said.  
  
Sara held up several more envelopes. "Guess no one wanted Bellagio's to have all the free press," she said. The luxury hotel had been quick to take advantage of a last-minute wedding cancellation to offer the ballroom to host Friday's awards ceremony. They also supplied a suite for Sara's parents to use that weekend. "Passes to the Hard Rock Cafe for Greg, tickets to the fights at the MGM for Nick, Warrick can have the passes for the raves at the Sphere, bunch of free meals to whoever wants them."  
  
"What are you keeping for yourself?" Catherine asked with a laugh.  
  
"Nothing." Sara's tone was quiet but serious.  
  
"Why not?" the blonde asked her, but Sara took advantage of Nick's arrival to avoid the question. Catherine moved to Grissom. "What's up?"  
  
"I'm not sure," he whispered. "Want some coffee?" He called loudly when Sara turned to watch the duo's conversation.  
  
Sara shook her head. "Do you have anything for me tonight?"  
  
"Yeah. The effects from the Wang murder. Go over it for trace evidence," he said, watching as she hurried from the room.  
  
"Guys, is Sara okay?" Nick asked quietly.  
  
Neither of his supervisors could answer his question.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
A small groan escaped from Grissom's lips as he opened another folder. He would swear in court that it hadn't been that full earlier. Cursing the efficiency with which processed wood cellulose could procreate, he began determining which of this could be ignored for another night. His migraine had gone away for the most part, but an annoying remnant remained. Paperwork wasn't helping. Nor was the serious lack of sleep he'd had last two days.  
  
Despite his condition, a sad smile formed. His discomfort wasn't anything compared to what Sara must be going through. If he lost some sleep in the process of helping her, he wouldn't complain. Overall, dinner had been nice. Afterwards had been even better. They'd have to do that more often.  
  
Later. Grissom recalled Catherine's warning. He'd let Sara have some time first. She needed it. It was distressing to see her so upset. Sara was normally so in control. He'd call Philip in the morning for more advice. He wouldn't let Sara go through this alone.  
  
Luckily, there had been some work for her to do tonight. Warrick's murder victim from Henderson had clothes that needed to be analyzed for trace materials. Given the intensity with which she had gone over that pick-up last night, Grissom was sure Sara would have isolated the individual sheep which had contributed to Wang's suit by morning.  
  
He'd check with Catherine to see if Sara could stay with her again. The number of reporters outside the lab had dropped noticeably. After the memorial this evening and the awards ceremony tomorrow morning, Grissom hoped they would leave Sara alone. The funerals started on Sunday, maybe they would move on to those. He hoped she could start to relax once the media attention was gone.  
  
A note caught his attention. This one couldn't be ignored. Sara wouldn't like it.  
  
Heading to the Layout Room, he found her trying to pick up a fiber with a pair of tweezers. Her hands were shaking too badly and she couldn't grip the material. Grissom hated to bother her, knowing she would be ashamed to be caught like this.  
  
"Sara?" As he thought, she jumped and blushed deeply. He gave her a gentle smile. "Sorry. Again. When Nick gets back, I need for you to review the evidence from the Baugher case with him."  
  
"Why? I'm supposed to testify in that case next week," she said warily, trying to keep her voice calm. She had had another flashback from the blood spatter on Wang's clothes.  
  
"Sorry. The defense attorney filed a motion. She's claiming her client can't get a fair trial with you testifying. You're a hero; it'll sway the jury. Anyway, rather than wait for this to die down, the DA wants to go ahead with Nick testifying instead. The evidence will get him," he said kindly. "I'm sorry, Sara. It's not my choice. Oh, I had a message from Philip. He'll call in the morning."  
  
She nodded and gripped the table with both hands to prevent Grissom from seeing how badly she was shaking or the fear in her eyes. She couldn't go to a scene, she couldn't handle evidence, now she couldn't even go to court. What was left?  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
"No good. This sample is too damaged," Doctor Robbins said, lifting his head up from his microscope. So far, he had been unable to pinpoint the exact cause of death for the Lawrence boy. On a gross scale, it was easy to determine what killed him: severe internal injuries. The boy's ribcage had been so badly broken it was almost nonexistent. Given the nature of the crash, it wasn't surprising. Reports from the scene indicated fire fighters had to cut the charred remains out of the twisted wreckage.  
  
This was the child whose name had caused Sara's reaction in the morgue. It was the same child about whom a reporter was asking extremely detailed questions. The young CSI had been afraid she had left a child behind in the fire. Robbins hoped the autopsy would show the boy had died before the fire, for Sara's peace of mind.  
  
Normally, a blood test for carboxyhemoglobin would show if the boy had died before the fire. The compound formed only when carbon monoxide was breathed in. But the heat from the fire had damaged the blood too severely to test.  
  
Instead, they were checking the lungs. If there were soot present in the interior of the lobes, it would mean the boy had been alive during the fire. Unfortunately, they hadn't been able to find a sample clear enough to answer their questions.  
  
David prepared another piece of tissue for the coroner, and then bent closer to the body, examining the chest cavity in more detail. It didn't take Robbins long to let out a whoop. "Good job! This sample is perfect. Let's hope it tells us what we need to know."  
  
The coroner's assistant looked up, with a sad smile before returning to his examination. A faint glint caught his eye. Moving in closer, David called out to the coroner. "Doc, I think you better look at this."  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
In the Drying Room, Sara sorted through the items, looking for Winchell Wang's clothes. She had managed to finally bring her breathing back to something close to normal. Grissom's had startled her more than Sara liked to admit. She had slept, had very little caffeine today. She couldn't blame her nervousness on those. How could she ever hope to return to a crime scene if every noise made her jump?  
  
She knew she wasn't being kept in the lab because of the press. They wanted to make sure she was still stable after the accident. Sara could quote the statistics easily: ten percent of the population would develop post- traumatic stress disorder at some point in their life; many more suffered some of the symptoms, without meeting the clinical definition of mental illness. Women were more likely to suffer than men. She tried not to think of the recovery rates.  
  
Pushing those thoughts down, Sara continued her quest. Work was all she had left. She would focus on solving this murder. Nothing could ever repair the damage she had done, but she would devote everything she had left to helping other victims.  
  
Moving down the racks, Sara pushed past a set of heavily stained clothes. The smell of smoke paralyzed her. Startled eyes darted to the nametag: "Sidle, Sara". The jeans, shirt and jacket had been so bloodstained she hadn't recognized them as her own.  
  
The smoke coming off the truck had been thick and oily. It couldn't cover the smell of viscera, though. The smoke started to fill the interior of the bus, limiting her vision. Her jacket sleeves had been soaked by the blood draining out of Hunter's body.  
  
She stumbled to the door, grinning widely to suppress the gag reflex. The last thing she would do was contaminate a room full of evidence.  
  
Eventually, she unsteadily made her way back into the room. Starting with another rack, she continued looking for Wang's clothes. Her breathing was ragged again.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Philip Kane yawned deeply, despising the ritual he was about to start. His last physical had been less than stellar and he had promised his wife he would take up jogging. Now, every morning at dawn he got up and went on a circuit around the neighborhood. He didn't know why it surprised him that he could only go a short distance. It had been obvious for years that he had let his weight climb. Still, he was making steady progress.  
  
Moving to the kitchen island, he spread out the morning paper, preparing to read it while doing his stretching exercises. He froze in his first stretch as he read the first story. Quickly scanning it, he winced when his muscles complained about being in the same position for too long.  
  
He hurriedly changed clothes and headed to the crime lab. There wouldn't be any jogging today.  
  
~~~~~~~~~  
  
Nick wandered into the Drying Room just as the sun was rising. He rushed in when he saw Sara leaning against the doorframe, pale and shaking. "Hey, you okay? Sara, come on, sit down," he said. "What's wrong? Come on, girl. Talk to me. You're making me nervous," Nick said, concern filling his voice.  
  
"Go away, Nick. Just leave me alone," Sara said, moving back into the Drying Room. She had had another flashback when she had to re-enter the room to find Wang's shoes. Her quest required her to return to her own smoke-scented clothing.  
  
"Hey, what kind of friend would I be if I did that?"  
  
Sara snorted a derisive laugh. "Friend? You don't have to pretend for my sake, Nick." How could anyone like her? She killed him. Once the truth was out, she'd have no friends left. What future did she have?  
  
Hurt filled the Texan's eyes. "Hey, there, Sara. What are you talking about? I'm fussy about who I call 'friend'. If you weren't one, I wouldn't call you one." He moved closer to rub Sara's arms gently.  
  
"Nick. Don't. Please. Go away," she whispered. This room was like the bus; long and narrow. The smell of smoke was filling it. Sara realized too late that she trapped herself in the Drying Room. Nick was blocking the only exit. She couldn't get out.  
  
"Come on, Sara. I know you're stressed and I know you don't like the attention, but you done good ..."  
  
"No I didn't!" Sara's exclamation caused him to jump. She turned on him, a hunted look in her eyes. "You don't understand! I'm not a hero. I'm not! It's a lie."  
  
Nick regarded her in confusion. "Sure ya are, darlin'," he whispered reassuringly. "You saved those kids!"  
  
"Not all of them, Nick!" Sara tried again to pull away from the other CSI. Her heart was racing.  
  
"Sara, you rescued those kids," he repeated, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. Nick had never seen Sara like this. She seemed ready to snap.  
  
"God, Nick, I left him behind. Don't you understand? I left that little boy behind."  
  
"Sara, what are you talking about? The rest of the kids were dead," Nick said, trying to reassure himself as much as Sara.  
  
"I don't know that!" Sara yelled. Nick grabbed her arms, trying to restrain her, but she fought against him. "I never checked for a pulse, Nick. I never checked," she cried, finally dropping her head to his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. "I never checked. I left him. I left him to die. I killed him." 


	17. When night is almost done

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end. 

Rating: R for subject matter 

A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me. 

Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now. 

Chapter 17 – When night is almost done 

Nick held onto the sobbing woman, a look of horror crossing his face. He wrapped his arms around her to support her when her legs started to buckle. She was too upset to listen, so he made no attempt to reassure her. 

Sara had killed a child? What had happened on that bus? He tried to reconcile her occasional comments with her earlier statements. She mainly kept apologizing, but sometimes other phrases would come out. Overall, it wasn't very coherent. 

He didn't believe for a minute that she was responsible for the boy's death, but how could he convince her? From the looks of it, Sara had already condemned herself. It made sense, in a perverse way, Nick realized. Sara was highly responsible, with an incredible sense of duty. Combine that with her respect for life, and it was logical she would blame herself for those lost, rather than take credit for those she saved. 

After a few minutes, Nick pulled her closer to his body, rubbing his hand gently across her back. He whispered softly in her ear, encouraging her to get this out of her system. Closing his eyes, Nick suddenly realized Warrick had been right to be concerned. 

"Shhh, Sara, shhh. Don't do this to yourself," he said softly. 

~~~~~~~ 

Flipping through the pages quickly, Grissom read the autopsy report on Hunter Lawrence. Robbins had delivered the report personally, explaining that this was the boy whose fate had concerned Sara. Luckily for her peace of mind, the boy had died before the fire. 

The official cause of death was internal bleeding from a lacerated liver. David had found metal shards embedded in the boy's spine and back of the rib cage. From the angle of impact, the coroner's office had determined that both the liver and spleen would have been shredded. Combined with his other injuries, the boy never had a chance. 

Grissom wondered what could have caused Sara to question her actions. With that much internal bleeding the boy should have died quickly. Had one of the children told her to go back for him, not realizing his fate? He hoped not; a request like that would haunt Sara. 

A knocking sound caused him to snap his head up. No one in the lab ever bothered to knock. "Philip?" he asked in shock. Quickly checking his watch, he wondered what could have brought the other man into the lab this early. 

"Good morning, Gil. Hope I'm not bothering you," Kane said, closing the office door behind him. Grissom's stomach did a preemptive twist. The effect was becoming Pavlovian. 

"What's wrong?" he asked cautiously. 

"What makes you think anything is wrong?" Kane said with a friendly smile, taking a seat. 

Grissom held his tongue, silently cursing the habit all psychologists seemed to develop of answering questions with questions. "Don't analyze me, Philip. It's 6:30 in the morning. You're on leave. Your wife's in the hospital. You don't make social calls. What is wrong?" he demanded. 

"I came to see Sara. I think we know what happened on the bus that she wasn't talking about," he said kindly, passing the paper he brought across the desk. 

Opening the paper, Grissom quickly scanned the headline before closing his eyes. God, Sara. Taking a deep breath, he read the article, his migraine threatening to return. 

Survivor Recalls Bus Tragedy   
Child Died in Rescuer's Arms   
LVPD CSI Mistaken For Mother   
by Lynda Darby, Tribune staff reporter 

Tragic details of Monday's fatal school bus accident   
came to light yesterday when survivor Teresa Hernandez,   
8, talked for the first time about the experience. 

Hernandez, of Oakland Avenue, was one of three children   
rescued from the burning wreckage by off-duty forensics   
investigator Sara Sidle. 

"It was really scary. I thought I was going to die, too,"  
said Hernandez of Oakland Avenue. "But Sara found me.   
She's my friend," Hernandez said. 

The second grader revealed that her classmate, Hunter   
Lawrence, 7, initially survived the crash, but died in   
Sidle's arms as she tried to save him. 

"He was crying and Sara was holding him. She was telling   
him he'd be okay. That she'd get him out. Hunter thought   
she was his momma and he told her he was sorry. Then he   
died," Hernandez said. "That made me sad. I started crying.   
That's when Sara found me. I was scared. I was hiding under   
the seat. She carried me out."

The coroner's office has yet to determine a cause of death   
for Lawrence, but accident reports indicate the child had   
been trapped in twisted metal and rescue workers needed to   
cut his remains from the wreckage. 

Lawrence, who would have turned 8 next month, moved to   
Las Vegas with his family last year. His parents both work   
at Tut's Tomb Casino. 

An initial report indicates the tractor trailer which   
collided with the bus was traveling at least 60 mph in the   
40 mph zone. Whether the excess speed caused the accident   
is still under investigation. 

The truck driver, Richard Brown, 57, Henderson, died on   
impact. Over a nearly four-decade career, he accumulated   
18 drunk-driving arrests and numerous speeding and reckless   
driving citations. At the time of the crash, he worked as   
an independent driver. 

The accident occurred at 7:45 a.m. as the bus headed towards   
Desert Winds Elementary School. It normally carries 33   
children. Seven other children and the school bus driver,   
Marsha Rice, 44, Exeter Estates, also died in the wreck. 

"Everything went flying and the windows broke. People   
started crying and running out the bus. I was afraid,   
[because] I saw the dead kids. I didn't want to see them,   
so I hid," said Hernandez. 

"Sara had to leave Hunter so she could carry me," the girl   
said. "I couldn't walk. I tried, but I couldn't."  


The young girl is in Desert Palms Hospital where she is   
listed in serious but stable condition. She suffered severe   
lacerations over much of her upper body. Doctors say she   
nearly bled to death and attribute Sidle's heroic actions   
with saving the child's life. 

Hernandez' parents also credit Sidle with their daughter's   
life. "I don't know what we would have done," said Rita   
Hernandez. "We are so grateful. That she saved our little   
girl. She even came to visit when Teresa asked her too."

Lawrence's parents declined to comment. Sidle could not be   
reached for comment. 

Sidle, 32, is a level-three crime scene investigator with   
the Las Vegas Police Department. She joined the crime lab   
just under three years ago when she was brought in to examine   
the circumstances surrounding the shooting and death of   
another LVPD CSI, Holly Gribbs. 

Grissom sighed deeply, running his hands through his hair. He didn't bother reading the remainder of the story, but his eyes wandered over the photos accompanying the article. A school photo of Hunter Lawrence ran next to a file shot of Sara. There was a photo of Teresa with her parents. The cut line indicated the child wouldn't sleep without the plush toy Sara - who was "really cool" - had left. 

"God. No wonder she's upset," he finally said. "There's nothing she could have done, either," he said passing the autopsy report across the desk. "That little guy never had a chance. Philip, Sara can get so emotional. And she's too hard on herself. This, I can't imagine what this is doing to her." 

"I understand, Gil. That's why I came in. I expect this new twist will also renew the media attention. This is the type of hook they can't resist. Where is Sara now?" 

"She needed to go over evidence for a trial next week with Nick Stokes, another CSI," he explained. "Let me find her. Why don't you get some coffee?" 

~~~~~~~ 

Nick slowly lowered Sara to the floor as her sobs began to subside. Sitting beside her, he kept a reassuring arm wrapped around her shoulders, uncertain what else he should do. 

"I'm sorry, Nick," she finally whispered against his shoulder. 

"Hey, there. You don't have anything to apologize for," he told her kindly. "Sara, what happened? 'Cause I don't believe you did anything wrong." 

"Nick, I left him," she said. "I thought he had died, but I, I panicked. I never checked. God, how could I do that?" 

"Shhh, stop it. What could you have done? What? He was trapped, right? The bus was about to catch fire. Those other kids were still in the bus. They needed you. If you had stayed with him, those others would have died. You would have, too," he told her. "There wasn't anything else you could have done." 

"You don't know that, Nick. I don't know that. I never will," she whispered. 

"Sara, that boy died the minute the truck hit that bus. It just took his body that long to catch up," he said sadly. "There was nothing you could have done to help him. Nothing, sweetheart. Don't do this to yourself." 

"Myself? God, Nick, think about that boy! His parents. How do I apologize to them? There's nothing I can do to ever ease their pain," she said, tears starting again. 

"Sara, don't," he urged, pulling her against his shoulder again. 

~~~~~~~ 

"Gil, what's up?" Catherine asked as she exited the locker room, finding the night-shift supervisor slowly walking down the hallway, looking into different labs. She had just come back from a wasted evening. A missing child turned out to be a sulking teenager upset over a confiscated video game. 

"Philip's here to see Sara," he said. 

"Now?" Catherine asked in surprise. 

"Yeah. Morning paper has an article. One of the kids died while Sara was trying to rescue him," Grissom explained. 

"Oh, lord. That explains it," she whispered. 

"Explains what?" 

"I didn't mention it earlier, but when Sara was spooked yesterday? She kept apologizing. I couldn't figure out who to. This must be hell for her," the older woman said. 

"It's worse. He thought she was his mother," Grissom said. 

Catherine closed her eyes and shook her head in sympathy. "Where is she?" 

"I don't know. I sent Nick to find her to go over the evidence from the Baugher case. Haven't found them yet," he said. 

Catherine headed down the other side of the hallway, sticking her head into offices and labs. As she approached the Drying Room, she heard the sound of crying. Walking quietly in the room, she found Nick trying to hold an obviously distraught Sara. When he looked up, Catherine could see the concern in his eyes. When he waved her out, she nodded and closed the door behind her. 

Stepping across the hallway, she grabbed Grissom's arm and physically pulled him back to his office, whispering, "Go, now!" in a tone leaving no room for disagreement. Finding Kane there, sipping his coffee, she closed the door. "Sara's in the Drying Room with Nick. She's a mess. And I mean a mess. God, she looks like she's losing it. Stay here, Gil!" Catherine said, grabbing his arm to restrain him when he started to dart for the door. 

"Catherine ..." he began, but was interrupted by Kane. 

"Gil, let me talk to her. She'll probably be embarrassed if you go in there when she's not in control," he explained. "You wait here." 

Nick looked up in relief when Philip Kane walked into the Drying Room, pulling the door behind him. "Hello, Sara," he said gently, gingerly lowering himself to sit beside her. "Nick, why don't you go make some coffee. I'll stay here." 

Several minutes later, Kane opened the door and called Catherine over. After a quick conversation, she headed to the break room to pick up the phone. Paging all employees to the conference room, she herded Nick and Grissom with her. After a few minutes the last of the lab techs straggled into the room. Looking out the door, she waited until she saw Kane escorting Sara onto the elevator. 

"We're using too many paper clips. Stop wasting them," she said, leaving a confused group behind her. 


	18. Departed to the judgment

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 18 - Departed to the judgment  
  
Catherine headed straight to Grissom's office, not surprised that he and Nick were quickly following her. "What's going on?" Grissom asked harshly after closing the door.  
  
"Philip's taking Sara to his office to talk. He thought it would be better to get her there without an audience. It would be better if no one found out about that ... incident ... in the Drying Room unless Sara tells them herself," Catherine said, sighing deeply as she sank into a chair. She turned to look at Nick expectantly. Grissom mimicked the action.  
  
Nick froze under their glares. He knew they were concerned about Sara and wanted to know what had happened. But he wouldn't betray her trust. He didn't believe for a minute that she had hurt that boy and he wasn't going to tell anyone Sara thought she had.  
  
"She's upset," he finally said, when he realized he couldn't get away without an explanation.  
  
"Dammit, Nick! I know she's upset! She's been upset since this happened! What happened?" Grissom demanded.  
  
"Gil, don't," Catherine said. She understood Nick's dilemma. "She'll tell you when she's ready. Let Sara set the pace for this."  
  
Grissom gave her a shocked look. "You expect me to ignore this?"  
  
"Yes," she said softly. "Well, no. Don't ignore it. Just don't push it. Gil, she has to deal with this on her schedule. Sara has to know she can trust us. If Nick tells what happened in there, she'll hesitate to open up again."  
  
Sitting down, Grissom ran his hands through his hair. Catherine was right. "Nick," he said slowly, carefully licking his lips. "Is there anything you can add without betraying Sara's confidence?"  
  
Nick gave him a sad smile. As much as the man could be distant, everybody knew he cared for Sara. This would be hard on him.  
  
"Like I said, she's upset. Really upset. I really didn't follow everything she said, but she's," he paused, as he searched for the right term, "questioning what she did. Sara thinks, maybe, she could have done more. She wasn't making a lot of sense."  
  
"Here," Grissom said, passing the morning edition of the Las Vegas Tribune to him.  
  
After a few minutes, Nick put the paper down. "Oh, man," was all he said. Now he understood Sara's concerns. If she left without checking for a pulse, it was no wonder she was beating herself up over this.  
  
"There's nothing she could have done, either," Grissom said. "Lacerated liver and spleen. There was no chance of controlling the bleeding, even if they could have gotten him to a hospital."  
  
"Does Sara know?" Nick asked.  
  
"No. Not unless Philip's told her," he said.  
  
"She needs to know," the younger man said urgently, offering no further explanation.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Warrick weaved his way through the parking lot, wondering what had prompted the resurgence in media attention. There had been almost no reporters out here when he left earlier. Ignoring the questions thrown his way, he headed into the lab. He found Grissom sitting in his darkened office, resting his head in his hands.  
  
"Hey, man. You see the parking lot? Madhouse out there," he said, noticing how tense his supervisor was. "Where's Sara? Everything okay?"  
  
"No, Warrick, everything is not okay," Grissom said wearily, tossing the newspaper towards him. "On top of that," he pointed to the article, "Sara is 'upset'. She's talking to Kane, now."  
  
The younger man just raised an eyebrow quizzically at the sarcastic tone used. He didn't take Grissom's mood personally. Warrick recognized he was fighting a migraine. Scanning the article quickly, he gave his head a sympathetic shake. "Sara see this?" he asked.  
  
"I don't think so. I don't know what happened Warrick. There was some sort of incident. Nick knows what happened, but he's not talking," Grissom said.  
  
"Why don't you go home? You need to sleep. I'll drive," he offered.  
  
Grissom shook his head. "I'm waiting until I hear from Philip. I need to know what's going on."  
  
When Warrick made no move to leave, the older man turned to give him a pointed look. "Nick is reviewing the evidence for a trial. Go help Catherine. She's going over the effects from your Henderson murder," he said firmly.  
  
Warrick took the hint his boss wanted to be alone and found Catherine in the Layout Room. "What happened?" he asked, moving to stand beside her and leaning in close.  
  
"Not sure, Warrick. Found Nick holding Sara on the floor of the Drying Room. God, I've never seen her like that. Hell, if I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't have believed it," she whispered to him.  
  
"Nick say anything?"  
  
"Just that she was upset," she said, rolling her eyes at the obviousness of the statement. "Said she wasn't making a lot of sense."  
  
Warrick examined the evidence Catherine had spread out on the table. Sara's been working this. Checking to see what was missing, he headed to the Drying Room. Realizing what he was doing, Catherine followed him.  
  
"Damn," he said softly, holding up the rest of Wang's effects. "Right next to Sara's clothes. Flashback?" he queried.  
  
"Could be. Whoa. Smell that?" Catherine asked.  
  
"The smoke. Yeah. And smell is the most powerful memory trigger," he said.  
  
Gathering the remaining evidence, the pair returned to the Layout Room to finish the examination. Each silently reconstructed what Sara must have gone through.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Shift ended, but none of the CSIs left the building. After grabbing coffee in the break room, they made their way to Grissom's office. He didn't welcome them, but made no move to chase them off. Catherine set a cup of coffee on his desk, before leaning against a wall.  
  
All four jumped when the phone eventually rang. The one-sided conversation revealed little information. "Grissom ... I'll be right there ... Right ... I'll ask ... Thanks."  
  
"Gil?" Catherine asked as soon as he moved to put the phone down.  
  
"I have a meeting with the sheriff. About Sara. Philip wants to know if it's okay for Sara to stay with you again. Until tonight?"  
  
"Of course! How's Sara?" she asked.  
  
"I don't know," Grissom said, heading quickly for the door. "That's what I'm going to find out."  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"She's not responding."  
  
"What's her temperature?" a doctor asked.  
  
"It's climbed up to 102.6," an older nurse told him.  
  
"White cell count?" another doctor queried.  
  
"Up to 12,000," she answered.  
  
"Not good. Let's try a stronger antibiotic; switch her to Ancef. Intravenous feed, 10 milligrams, q.i.d.," the first doctor said. "I'll go tell her parents."  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Grissom hurried to Mobley's office. Sara was sitting in a chair, her legs pulled up on the seat, her head resting against her knees. She gave him a weak smile when he called her name then turned to stare at the wall. Philip directed him to another chair before he could go to her. Mobley and Conrad Ecklie were already seated.  
  
"Gil, come in. Let's talk," the sheriff said sadly.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Heading back to his office, Grissom found the rest of the team still waiting impatiently. He raised his hands when all three began asking questions as the same time.  
  
"Sara's talking to the sheriff. She'll be here in a few minutes," he said, rubbing his eyes.  
  
"As of now, Sara is no longer working cases," he said without further preamble, collapsing into his chair. "She's having flashbacks. Philip wants her kept away from anything that could trigger additional ones. This doesn't go beyond this office, either," he said, the warning clear in his voice. "Sara wanted you to know why she's not working cases, but no one else has to know."  
  
"Is she on leave? People are going to ask," Catherine pointed out.  
  
"No. She'll be working on a special project. Sara insisted she wanted to do something and Philip agreed she could do this," Grissom said. "Sara will be reviewing the cold cases. She won't be reviewing the evidence, per se, but the procedures. Since she has the top solve-rate, she'll be looking for things that may have been missed or could have been done better. She'll be writing a general report on procedures and individual recommendations for each of the CSIs. Don't give her a hard time over this," he added firmly.  
  
"Good idea, actually," Nick said, supportively. "I know I won't mind having her critiquing my work. I could use some of those Sidle secrets."  
  
"Yeah," Warrick agreed. "If she can help get everyone's solve-rates up, that'll be good for the lab. This Kane's idea?"  
  
Grissom actually smiled at that. "Ecklie's, believe it or not. He's wanted to do something like this for a while, but could never justify pulling someone out of the field to do it. You can still go to Sara if you have questions, but use some common sense. Don't go to her with cases about kids or accidents, things like that," he added.  
  
"How long will Sara be working this project?" Catherine asked.  
  
"She'll start by going over the open cases from the past year. If needed, she'll go back another couple years. If she needs more time, she'll start reviewing lab procedures," he said. "There's no guarantee she'll ever be able to go back in the field. We'll have to wait and see."  
  
"Is there anything we can do to help?" Nick asked.  
  
"Don't push. If Sara wants to talk, be supportive. Let her know she has friends. Don't be surprised if she loses her temper easily. Philip is sending down some literature for what we can expect," Grissom said.  
  
The team fell into an uneasy silence until they heard Sara coming down the hallway. Nick opened Grissom's office door to pull her in and give her a hug. She blushed, but returned the hug. "Sorry, Nicky. Didn't mean to freak on you," she said shyly. "Hope I didn't worry you guys."  
  
"Don't worry about it," Warrick said, giving her a hug.  
  
"You ready to get some sleep?" Catherine asked gently.  
  
"I need to go by my place first. Need some clothes, get my mail, water my plants," she said.  
  
"There's a press mob out there again, Sara. Did you see the paper?" the blonde asked cautiously.  
  
"Kane told me," she said, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Sara, let Cath get your stuff for you," Nick said. "I'll go pick up some bagels and we can all meet back at my place for a group breakfast."  
  
"Sounds like a plan to me, Sara. Let me have your keys," Catherine urged gently.  
  
After a minute's hesitation, the brunette let out a sigh and turned over her keys. "Guys, thanks. Warrick, can I catch a ride with you?"  
  
"Sure," he smiled.  
  
"Give me a minute and I'll be ready," she said, leaving the room.  
  
If anyone noticed she refused to look at Grissom, no one mentioned it. 


	19. Soul, wilt thou toss again?

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 19 - Soul, wilt thou toss again?  
  
Grabbing a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator, Grissom swallowed his migraine medicine before collapsing on his bed, trying to sleep instead of reliving that morning's events. It didn't take long before he realized it was a futile effort.  
  
There was no doubt Sara was avoiding him. She wouldn't look at him during the meeting in the sheriff's office, nor later in his office. When he tried to talk to her at Nick's, she gave quick answers, never meeting his eyes. She actually took a step away from him when he had tried to touch her arm.  
  
Grissom knew that Kane said not to take it personally, but he found he couldn't detach himself. It was very personal. Guiltily, he realized he was upset because her actions hurt. It wasn't like she was trying deliberately to hurt him.  
  
Unlike what he had done to her.  
  
That was a mistake he would continue to pay for, he realized sadly. Avoiding her seemed like a good idea at the time, but now the consequences of his imposed distance was hurting Sara. Sighing, he shifted in his bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. If it wasn't a deliberate attempt to hurt him, then why was she avoiding him?  
  
Guilt? Nick had said something about her questioning her actions. Logically, that didn't make any sense. There was nothing she could have done to help that boy. Of course, this wasn't a logical situation.  
  
Did she think she had let him down? He had brought Sara to the lab and now she couldn't do her job. Given her workaholic nature and sense of responsibility, that was a possibility.  
  
Embarrassment was a definite chance. Sara was normally a very self-reliant woman. This whole situation would be hard on her.  
  
Fear? Was she afraid what others thought of her? If they thought she was unstable? Was Sara afraid that she wouldn't be able to do her job anymore?  
  
If she couldn't return to work, what would Sara do? She defined herself by her job. Being a CSI wasn't how she earned a paycheck, it was who she was. Would she be willing, or even able, to take a lab job? Could that satisfy her? If not, would she leave?  
  
Pushing those thoughts down, Grissom let the medication do its work. He needed sleep before the evening's memorial service for the children who had died. Sara insisted on going and Kane hadn't overruled her. Grissom worried that it wouldn't be a good idea. But he'd be there. If she wouldn't accept his physical support, the least he could do would be to be there for moral support.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Catherine pulled back the sheets and happily climbed into her bed. She was beat. The drive back from Nick's had been quiet. All she had said to Sara was that she would be available any time she wanted to talk. Sara had thanked her with a smile and turned to sort through her mail.  
  
The older woman hoped Sara's parents would be able to help her. They were due to arrive that evening. Despite the brunette's earlier assertions they were good parents, Catherine had her doubts. Honest or not, they could have been more careful, more supportive, of Sara during their interview. Luckily, none of the press had dug into their backgrounds. They would have had a field day with that.  
  
She wondered if she should ask Sara about Grissom. The blonde couldn't help but think something was up. Since blowing up at him yesterday afternoon, Sara had shared what sounded like a very nice dinner with Grissom, then gave him passes to one of the city's nicest restaurants. There was some strange undercurrent going on when Catherine had walked in on them in the break room and she clearly was trying to avoid him this morning.  
  
Well, Sara would tell her when she was ready. She'd grill Grissom later. He probably did something stupid again.  
  
Snuggling into the mattress, she gladly let sleep take over.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Sara stared at Lindsay's bed warily, as if the pink-and-white cotton coverings posed a danger. She wanted desperately to sleep, but did not want to face another nightmare. Especially with Catherine there. The older woman had already done so much for her. She didn't want to deny Catherine any more sleep.  
  
Switching her stare to the bottle of pills in her hand, Sara carried on a silent debate with herself. She had been adamant that she didn't want to take any drugs if possible and Kane had agreed. He did give her this bottle of sleeping pills, though, in case she needed their help.  
  
Sara knew they were just a mild, generic sleep aid she could have bought herself at any drug store in the country. Still, taking them would be making an admission she wasn't ready to acknowledge.  
  
She knew she needed help. If she couldn't recover, Sara knew she never be able to return to the field. That was a future the brunette didn't want to consider. So, she'd do whatever Philip asked of her. They had worked out a schedule of appointments. He gave her the address of a support group for accident survivors. She would start a journal, take up a hobby. She would accept the help of her friends.  
  
Letting out a deep sigh of disgust, she opened the bottle. Taking out a single pill, she bit it in half. Dry-swallowing one part, she tossed the remainder back into the bottle.  
  
Sara knew she was mess, but she'd be damned if she would surrender without putting up a fight.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Whether it was the medication, sheer exhaustion or her earlier emotional release, Sara managed five hours of sleep without a nightmare. She woke up gradually, feeling better than she had in days, reality slowly creeping back.  
  
After taking a leisurely shower and changing into fresh clothes, she wandered into the kitchen to make coffee. Checking the time, she realized Lindsay would be getting out of school soon. Sara wondered if she would go to stay with a nanny or if Catherine would get up to be with her.  
  
Moving to the refrigerator, Sara surveyed the contents before checking out the cabinets, occasionally pulling out items or cooking utensils.  
  
When Catherine awoke later, the first thing she noticed was the smell. Heading into kitchen, she found Sara taking a tray out of the oven.  
  
"Hey," the older woman said in confusion, crossing the room to get some coffee.  
  
"Hey," Sara said in return, holding out her burden. "Want a cookie?"  
  
"Sara Sidle really can cook," she teased, reaching to take one of the hot offerings. "Damn, these are good!"  
  
The brunette gave her a look of mock-indignation. "Does Linds prefer lasagna or spaghetti?"  
  
"Either. She's not picky about pasta. Why?"  
  
"I made some sauce, put didn't know which she'd rather have for dinner. I was going to make pizza, but there wasn't time for the dough to rise," Sara explained.  
  
"I thought you hated to cook?" Catherine asked curiously.  
  
"I do. But I was bored. And it was the least I could do. After all you've done. I, I really appreciate this, Cath. I know it can't be easy having the crazy lady in the same house with your kid," Sara's tone was light, but the blonde could detect the pain in it.  
  
"Well, she survives me. You shouldn't be any trouble," Catherine quipped. Sara grinned in thanks.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
Grissom waited outside the cathedral nervously. He had called Catherine earlier to see if they wanted to join him for dinner and was surprised to find they had already eaten. A meal Sara apparently cooked. Instead, he came directly to the service, glad that he had. The parking lot was nearly full and it would be an hour before it started. Luckily, they had reserved a spot for the families and guests, including Sara.  
  
Once again, he sighed deeply, running his hand through his hair. He couldn't help but think this was a mistake. Sara was already upset and he was afraid this would make it worse. He looked up in surprise when Brass joined him.  
  
"Hey, Jim. Wasn't expecting you," he said.  
  
"Yeah, you know me. Never miss a party," he replied darkly. "What's up with Sara?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Grissom asked cautiously. He hoped news of the 'incident' hadn't reached the police department.  
  
"There's a rumor going around that Sara won't be in the field any more. That she's taking some other position," Brass said.  
  
"She's working on a special project for Mobley. An internal review," Grissom said evenly. "Don't know how long it'll take."  
  
"Uh, huh. Good. She shouldn't be in the field now. Not for a while yet," the police captain said. "It'll be good when she's back, though," he added kindly.  
  
"Yeah," was Grissom's only response.  
  
The two friends stood in silence until Catherine's car was directed to one of the reserved spots. They moved in to escort Sara through the throng of reporters standing behind makeshift barriers. Grissom didn't touch Sara, but gave her a gentle smile and stood near her side. Brass didn't hesitate to grab her arm and walk her past the yelling crowd.  
  
A young priest showed them into an anteroom where an older priest was talking to Sgt. O'Riley.  
  
"Sara, this is Father Duncan. He helped at the scene," the detective said. "He wanted to talk to you."  
  
She looked at him curiously. He was tall and although he was approaching 70, still strong, with kind, intelligent eyes. This was the priest from the photograph; the one who had taken O'Riley's niece. Holding her hand out to him, Sara walked over. "Hello, Father."  
  
Taking her hand in both of his, he brought it up to his lips slowly. "I'm so sorry," he said, tears forming in his eyes. "Please forgive me."  
  
Sara looked at him in shock. "Why?"  
  
"I didn't follow you into the bus. I was afraid. When I smelled the smoke from the truck, I panicked. You shouldn't have had to face that alone. I was a medic in Korea, before I became a priest. I knew what to expect. Maybe that's why I panicked, I don't know. You are so young; you didn't need to have experienced that. I'm so sorry," he repeated softly, his tears flowing freely.  
  
"There's nothing you could have done," Sara whispered, unconsciously repeating the fact Philip Kane had discussed with her that morning. "There was nothing you could have done." Without thinking, she let the priest pull her into a hug and joined in his tears. 


	20. Pain has an element of blank

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me. The chapter titles come from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 20 - Pain has an element of blank  
  
Catherine discreetly led her colleagues out of the anteroom, placing a reassuring hand on Grissom's arm. He kept looking back at Sara nervously. If the setting had been more private, she would have used the time to talk to him.  
  
After a few minutes, Father Duncan left the room, smiling sheepishly as he passed the group. Sara was leaning against the far wall, staring out of a window. Quickly crossing the room, Grissom ignored Catherine, who was trying to restrain him without making it obvious what she was doing.  
  
Looking up at their approach, the brunette gave them an embarrassed smile when she saw the show. Realization hit Grissom and he stopped suddenly. Barreling up to her after the emotional encounter wouldn't be helpful. Instead, he began absentmindedly searching through his pockets.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
"I think we all know the answer to that," she sighed darkly. Sara held out her hand when he moved to step closer.   
  
"Sorry," he said, pulling out the package of tissues he'd been searching for. "Here."  
  
"Don't be sorry. I'm just jumpy. It's not you," she said, wiping her eyes. Sara hadn't worn mascara, anticipating the tears, but she hadn't thought to bring tissue. The obvious oversight irked her. "Thanks."  
  
The corner of Grissom's lip turned up slightly, but never turned into a real smile. He watched Sara sadly. It was obvious she was in pain. Grissom tried to imagine what she was going through, but found he couldn't. While he understood it was a distressing, he knew he lacked both the personal experience and empathy to fully appreciate what she was going through.   
  
He turned to look around. The detectives hadn't followed them in, but were talking at the entrance to the anteroom. Catherine was studying the carpet, giving them some privacy, but staying close enough to intervene if necessary.  
  
"I wish I could make this better, Sara. I wish I knew how," he whispered. "I feel lost. Nothing I do seems to be right, but making no move is too painful. I have no idea what I should be doing."  
  
"Welcome to my world," she said softly, turning to face out the window.  
  
  
  
A shocked expression briefly crossed his face, before he masked his pain. Grissom started to speak, hesitated and left to join Brass and O'Riley.  
  
Catherine winced at the exchange. There had been no trace of venom in Sara's voice, no hint that she was referring to anything other than her current situation. She may not have meant the comment to be some type of payback, but the effect was the same. Well, Grissom could get over it. He'd dished out enough to her over the years.  
  
The blonde went to stand silently next to Sara until the younger woman regained her composure. Moving from the anteroom, they headed into the main chamber of the cathedral. Sara took a deep breath as she scanned her surroundings.  
  
The large room was packed with the families and classmates of those killed. Many were already crying. Large framed photos of each of the victims stood before the altar, surrounded by flowers, candles and homemade cards.  
  
Catherine gave a silent prayer of thanks that the reporters had been kept outside. A single video camera was set up to provide a live feed to the press pool outside. While Sara was maintaining a calm exterior, the older woman knew her well enough to recognize the signs of stress in her posture.  
  
A friendly deacon came over and pointed out a reserved pew towards the front of the church. A number of co-workers from the sheriff's department were already there and in the row behind. Getting there proved to be difficult.  
  
This was the first chance most of the survivors' families had had to greet Sara. Every few steps, another group would come over, grabbing her hands and offering their thanks, some adding hugs and kisses. She accepted the gratitude in a confused daze, giving a polite "You're welcome" to each exchange.  
  
Catherine tried to deflect some of the attention away from Sara, but the families were insistent. She turned pleading eyes to the front and saw Grissom whispering to the staff, which quickly dispersed.  
  
The brunette tried to stay calm, but her thoughts were in a jumble. She came her to apologize to the victims' families, not to be apologized to, and certainly not to be thanked. The attention was unsettling. Her composure finally broke when a young girl rushed over and wrapped her arms around Sara.  
  
It was the same blood-soaked girl she'd helped from the bus. She had been crying then, too. A burst of light caused her to break her thoughts before the flashback could start. Sara turned to stare at the photographer, politely responding to the girl's parents as they pulled her away. Sensing her discomfort, they kept their thanks restrained.  
  
Jim Hewitt smiled. What a perfect photograph to add to his portfolio. It would bookend his earlier shot perfectly. It had been risky, sneaking in earlier and hiding the camera, but it was going to pay off. His grin froze when he recognized the look of pure hatred that settled on Sara's face.  
  
She recognized him. This was the photographer who never bothered to help. The one who had been interviewed numerous times, bragging about his shots. The one who never expressed any sympathy for the families. Now he was trying to profit from their grief.  
  
"You bastard," she whispered, moving to stand directly in his face. All the conflicting emotions she'd been struggling with coalesced into anger. "You fucking bastard. It doesn't bother you, does it? That those kids died? That you never even tried to help? You just don't care, do you?"  
  
"Nice camera. May I?" Brass asked, yanking it from Hewitt's hands before he could respond. He quickly pressed the release, opening the back and pulling out the film. "Oops. Butterfingers," he said, shoving the camera back into his hand. Quickly walking over, he grabbed one of Sara's elbows while Catherine took the other. They led her to their pew, with the other lab staff acting as a buffer to keep the crowd away from her.  
  
Hewitt started to protest angrily, but he picked up the muttered threats directed at him. Sidle's voice had been very low, but in the quiet church had carried to the next pews. From there, it was being repeated across the room quickly. Already 1,000 angry eyes were directed at him. Hewitt considered his options and fled.  
  
Grissom watched the scene from the aisle, a feeling of dread settling over him. He knew letting Sara come here would be a mistake. Kane had been adamant that she needed to be isolated from things that could remind her of the accident until she came to terms with it. Yet, she was in a room surrounded by the survivors and the families of those who died. This whole night was a disaster waiting to happen.  
  
He was too far away to have heard the conversation and Sara was turned so he couldn't read her lips, but he knew her well enough to know what had transpired. Hewitt was smart to have left.  
  
As the group approached, he gave Brass a nod of thanks as the police captain slipped into the pew, resisting the urge to touch Sara. It had been clear earlier that it would be unwelcome. Grissom was surprised when she let Catherine into the pew before her. Trying to be respectful, he sat down, leaving as much distance as possible between them on the crowded bench.  
  
Sara slid closer to him.  
  
Catherine suppressed her grin at the quick look of shock that crossed his face. It wasn't intentional, but Sara was giving him a highly condensed version of his push-then-pull treatment. The constant shift in attitude was clearly confusing him. Good. Maybe it would drive home an important point.  
  
As the service began, Sara crossed her arms and slid even slightly closer to him. Grissom mimicked the action, smiling briefly as she slipped her hand over top of his.   
  
It took all of his control not to jerk away when she gripped it painfully when the service moved to Hunter Lawrence. As friends of the family came forward to talk about the little boy, eyes turned towards his parents. It wasn't hard to see how the boy, deeply in shock, could have confused Sara for his mother. The woman was only slightly taller and heavier, with the same pale complexion and brown hair and eyes.  
  
She turned towards Sara, and the two brunettes locked gazes for a minute. Sara looked away first, breaking contact with Grissom to wipe away at her tears. He uncrossed his arms, placing his uninjured hand next to her on the seat. She didn't take it or look up through the rest of the memorial.  
  
As the service ended, Sara stood up quickly, Grissom in close pursuit. She walked towards the Lawrence family, but an older man stopped her. "Don't. Not now," he said. "I'm John Lawrence, Hunter's grandfather. They're too upset now. Hunter was always afraid to be alone when he was hurt. That you were there, well, it's hard on his mother. She blames herself and I don't think she can face you now."  
  
"I'm so sorry," Sara said softly. "I wish I could have done something, that I could have gotten him out."  
  
The older man nodded, but walked away without another word. Sara closed her eyes as Grissom placed a hand on her back. "I'm okay," she said quietly, walking over to another family. As she tried to apologize, a man grabbed her quickly, telling her to stop. The rest of the family joined in the hug, all thanking Sara for trying to help.  
  
She walked away, slightly dazed. While not as extreme, she was greeted by the remaining families in a similar manner. The elderly grandmother of the bus driver gave her a firm hug. "You tried, dear. You're the only one who went on the bus. You have nothing to be sorry about. At least you tried." 


	21. I'll tell you how the sun rose

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and G/S.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me. The chapter titles come from Emily Dickinson poems.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 21 - I'll tell you how the sun rose  
  
Sara rejoined her colleagues, who had been watching from a polite distance. Mobley surprised her by suggesting the group stop for something to eat before heading to the lab. She agreed; since she was limited to a 40-hour work schedule there was nothing to be gained by going to the lab early.  
  
She grinned ruefully as her friends automatically formed a protective cordon around her as they exited the cathedral, but was grateful once outside. Repeated questions about the exchange with the photographer surprised her. Grissom moved in closer when she tensed under the barrage from the press.  
  
Once in the car, Catherine gave her a concerned look. "Holding up okay?"  
  
"Yeah," Sara said, holding her hands tightly so the blonde wouldn't notice the tremors. "Really. Felt good telling that guy off."  
  
"I can't believe that you did that," Catherine said, adding a laugh at the brunette's shocked look. "He deserved it, but I can't believe you said that in a church. Don't you go to hell for something like that?"  
  
"Cath, I already qualify as a tour guide," she joked darkly, shrugging when Catherine winced.  
  
Sara remained silent for the rest of the drive and later at the restaurant, where the others split a selection of appetizers. She finally ate some stuffed mushrooms Grissom kept offering, hoping he would relax. He looked as tense as she felt.  
  
A sad smile crossed her lips as she watched him. Grissom confused her in ways no one else could. It was always a guessing game trying to figure out when he would switch from being forward to withdrawing. But he'd yet to pull back, even after the number of times she snapped at him. He actually seemed more eager to help the more she pushed him away.  
  
Sara wondered briefly what his reaction would be if she asked him to sleep with her now. The one time she asked rhetorically had shocked him. He'd probably agree now, just out of fear of what her reaction would be if he refused. She nearly laughed at the mental image.  
  
As tempting as it was to turn to him, she didn't want to think of how she'd react when he eventually pulled back. She couldn't risk becoming dependent on his support, only to suddenly lose it. She needed to regain her composure without him.   
  
Despite Kane's assurances, Sara worried about her current state of mind. She had no control and that was frightening. Her moods switched faster than she thought possible. For the first time as an adult, Sara felt like she had no say in the direction her life was heading.  
  
As the group broke up, she asked Nick for a lift. Once they were on the road, she gave him an embarrassed smile. "Nicky, I really am sorry about last night. I never meant to fall apart on you like that."  
  
Nick eyed her carefully. She seemed tense. Well, Sara was never big on talking about her personal life. And this was bigger than deciding where to go on vacation, or in Sara's case, to actually take one.  
  
"Glad to know that wasn't a planned event," he said lightly. Sara flashed him a brief grin. "Look, Sara, it wasn't your fault. You can't go around blaming yourself for things you have no control over. 'Cause it won't change a thing and it sure as hell doesn't help anyone."  
  
She nodded her head. "I know that. I do. Philip showed me the autopsy report. I couldn't have helped him. But I think I'll always wonder. Whether he really was dead then. Doesn't matter what the report says."  
  
Nick gave her a confused look as they pulled into the parking lot. She stopped him before he could head towards the garage. "I'm not hiding from them any more, Nick," she said, jerking her thumb at the reporters.  
  
"If you're sure," he said, watching her nod. He grabbed her arm before she could move out of the SUV. "Sara, why don't you believe he was dead? 'Cause that little girl - Teresa - she said the same thing. He died. She was further away, not even touching the body, and she knew he died. Why are you doubting yourself?"  
  
Sara stared at Nick in astonishment. She had never thought about that. Eventually, she shrugged her shoulders, shaking her head in defeat.  
  
"I don't know, Nick. I don't even trust my own memories from the accident. I keep remembering details, but I don't know which of them are real. It's like a movie. I'm watching it happen, not living it. Except movies don't have smells or touch. It feels unreal. Weird," she said. "Thanks. For listening."  
  
"Any time, sugar. You know, I don't bite. You can talk to me whenever you want," he offered.  
  
"I know. I'll probably have to," she sighed heavily.  
  
"I'll try not to take that personally," he quipped.  
  
She grinned, giving him a quick eye roll. "Part of my recovery. Kane told me I have to open up more."  
  
"Something wrong with that? 'Fraid of us?" he teased.  
  
"No! Maybe you should be, though. You saw how bad I got in the Drying Room. That was me in my 'don't tell anyone' mood," she shot back.  
  
He joined her in laughing as they crossed the parking lot. Sara looked up in time to see Grissom sneak back into the building. He had been watching them.  
  
Nick gave her a friendly shove with his elbow. "He's worried, you know. He'd help if you let him."  
  
"I know."  
  
"You gonna let him?"  
  
"I don't know. I'm confused enough already. He makes it worse. When I get near him, I don't know whether I should kiss him or hit him," she said, blushing when she realized what she had let slip. Nick wrapped an arm around her, laughing.  
  
"That's good, 'cause you make him feel the same way."  
  
Sara gave him a dirty look, playfully shrugging his arm away as they entered the building. She didn't even bother to acknowledge the reporters asking questions. Heading into the break room, she found the rest of the team sipping coffee. Grissom looked up and slid her a cup across the table. She took it with a smile and went to examine the latest scattering of flower arrangements. Moving through the cards perfunctorily, she stopped when one of the names caught her eye. She smiled as she slipped the card into her pocket.  
  
"Old flame?" Catherine asked.  
  
"Old advisor. From grad school. Haven't heard from him in years," she said, taking a seat at the table.  
  
Greg's over-energetic entrance stopped Catherine from asking any more questions. "Sara! I go away for a couple days and you go make yourself famous! Course, I did have bragging rights on the plane about how we're, well you know," he said playfully, confused by the multiple glares he received.  
  
"Okay. Your parents stopped by. They were able to catch an earlier flight. Definitely, definitely cool folks. They liked me," he said, waggling his eyebrows knowingly.  
  
"No surprise. We rarely agree on anything," Sara answered dryly.  
  
"Well, they said to give them a call if you need anything, otherwise they'll see you tomorrow at the ceremony," he said, waiting until she made eye contact. "Sunflower."  
  
A small round of laughter escaped from around the room.  
  
"My mother was in labor with me for 39 hours. My dad never left her side, even after she broke three bones in his hand. They can call me anything they want, Greg. You can't."  
  
The remaining laughter died quickly at the coldness in Sara's voice.  
  
Greg blushed, wondering what was wrong. "Sorry, Sara. I thought it was a nickname," he said contritely.  
  
Hearing the pained quality of his voice, she looked up to see the embarrassed looks. Her emotional roulette wheel just landed on 'bitch' again. Damn. Closing her eyes and mentally counting to 10, she answered. "It is. I really hate it. Sorry." She got up to dump her coffee out and grab a bottle of water from the fridge, fighting to keep her hands from shaking.  
  
"I don't know, Sara, I think 'Sunflower' suits you," Nick teased, trying to lift her spirits. Warrick quickly agreed.  
  
"I swear to God the first person who says I'm seedy ..."  
  
"Nah. Tall, bright, beautiful. That's you," Greg said apologetically.  
  
"Grissom, I'm going to go get started. See you guys later," she said, hurrying out of the room.  
  
"What's going on guys?" Greg asked in a concerned voice. Grissom merely indicated he should head back to his lab.  
  
After handing out the team's assignments, he went to find the lab tech. Turning down his music, Grissom directed Greg to his office. "Leave Sara alone," he said as soon as he closed the door. "She's under a lot of stress right now."  
  
"I'm sorry, boss. I was just joking," Greg offered.  
  
"I know, Greg. But this isn't a joke. Not for Sara. It's bothering her. She's a bit more short-tempered than usual. Don't aggravate her. Okay?"  
  
"Sure," he said, leaving when Grissom pointed to the door. Both men were surprised to find Sara waiting in the hallway.  
  
"Did he yell at you?" she asked with out preamble.  
  
"Nah, no more than usual," Greg said with a smile. Sara didn't return it, but gave her supervisor a harsh look.  
  
"He'll apologize later, Greg," she said, entering the room, closing the door on the startled technician.  
  
"Sara, I ..."  
  
"Don't Grissom. Don't treat me like I'm going to go postal. Greg's been bothering me ever since I got here. You never said anything to him before," she said hotly.  
  
"Sorry. You're right. I should have yelled at Greg years ago," he said with a smile. She closed her eyes briefly, before collapsing in a chair, shaking her head. Sara flashed him a fleeting grin. "You need anything?"  
  
"New business cards, obviously," she laughed ruefully. "Need to change the name to 'Sybil'. Only fair to give people advanced warning."  
  
"I meant for your review," he chuckled. She handed him a list of files she would need. "This is a good project, Sara. You can help everyone. Don't feel like you're wasting your time," he said seriously.  
  
"I know," she said honestly. "I'll be taking off this weekend. To spend with my parents."  
  
"That's fine. As long as you're working this project, you set your own schedule. If you want, you can work days."  
  
"That's one way of avoiding my moods," she said, wondering if it sounded as flippant as she hoped.  
  
"I've survived them this long," he said gently. "I don't know what ... other ... things ... you need to schedule. If working days helps, do it."  
  
She gave him a measured look. So Kane hadn't revealed her treatment plan. "I'm supposed to go to a support group. For accident survivors. Kane said it might help. They met in the evenings. I can catch it before shift," she said. He gave her a smile, but she could tell he was nervous. "You're not getting rid of me, Grissom. I'm going to be back."  
  
They gave each other reassuring smiles, but both wondered whether her goal was obtainable. 


	22. Ch 22

Chapter 22  
  
Grissom scowled as he approached the lab. Numerous reporters began yelling questions even before he drew near. The double dose of Sara's encounter with the photographer and the Hernandez girl's revelation about what had happened on the bus had refueled the media attention.  
  
So far, they had managed to keep her ... situation ... under wraps. Her being pulled from the field could be presented as a reward of sorts. But the ruse would only work as long as no one questioned her behavior. As it was, it would only be a matter of time before the other lab personnel became suspicious.  
  
He swore silently at this latest complication. If the press continued to hound Sara, eventually she'd lose control in front of them or they would find out she was under a psychologist's care. Either could be fatal to her career.  
  
In most jobs, taking a leave due to stress wouldn't pose a problem. But their work relied heavily on reputation. While evidence never lied, people did. If a defense attorney ever learned about this, Sara would be attacked as being unstable during a trial. Any work she did would immediately be called into question.  
  
Grissom knew that returning to the field was Sara's goal. She was willing to take whatever actions were needed to restore her state of mind in order to accomplish it. If she lost that motivation, it could be devastating for her. So much of her life centered around her work.  
  
Shifting the bags of evidence protectively away from the crowd, he gave a simple "No comment" as he entered the building. While he knew he should give a more definitive answer, Grissom didn't feel comfortable saying any more without knowing exactly what had happened. Seeing Catherine leaving the A/V lab, he called her into his office.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"What exactly did Sara say to that photographer? The press is going crazy out there."  
  
"Sara, stressed, jumped by a guy who was more interested in making money than helping a bunch of hurt kids. Do I really need me to spell it out for you?"  
  
Grissom let out a loud sigh as he glared at the blonde. The fact she wouldn't actually tell him what Sara had said was all he needed to know. Catherine wasn't shy; it had to be something bad enough that she thought it would bother him. That fact wasn't helping his nerves.  
  
"This isn't good. They could use this to cause her problems," he finally said.  
  
"Wouldn't worry about it. Sara's gold right now. Public loves her. The media can't turn this against her without making themselves look bad."  
  
"I hope you're right."  
  
Catherine watched her friend carefully. He was obviously tense and hadn't hid the concern in his voice. She couldn't recall a time when he had ever willingly exposed himself to personal pain. Despite repeatedly being on the receiving end of Sara's temper, he'd yet to back away. The uncharacteristic behavior pleasantly surprised her.  
  
Fear was a great motivator.  
  
Hopefully, this would be a lesson for him. Grissom would never really be happy until he lowered the walls he'd built around him. He was doing so to help Sara. If all went well, they would be closer than ever.  
  
She didn't want to think about what would happen if it didn't go well. Could he possibly withdraw further into his own world without losing a grip on the outside world?  
  
Giving herself a mental shake, she pushed those thoughts down. They still had a job to do. If she knew her friend, work would be the one thing that would help break his bad mood.  
  
"You have something in DNA? Greg's been bouncing off the walls looking for you."  
  
He raised a curious eyebrow. "No. I have things in Trace," he said, suddenly smiling as he made the connection. "He thinks I'm going to apologize to him."  
  
"Any particular reason?"  
  
"Sara told him I would."  
  
"Oh. Of course. That explains everything."  
  
"Sara's upset I told him not to bother her."  
  
Catherine smiled at his confused expression. He honestly had no idea what he had done wrong. "And you're surprised why?"  
  
He remained silent for a moment before staring at his hands. "I don't know. Making her upset seems to be my specialty lately," he said sadly.  
  
"Gil, you're treating her differently. You've never said anything to Greg before."  
  
"Sara's never been like this before!"  
  
"And I'm sure she loved you reminding her of it," Catherine said softly.  
  
Grissom snapped his head up suddenly before grunting. Of course, Sara wouldn't want him treating her like she was fragile. "I didn't say it in front of her, Catherine! Give me some credit. I had the door closed. She was in the hallway while I talked to Greg."  
  
Catherine smiled as he quickly looked up to check the hallway outside his door. She hid behind her hand when he glared at her.  
  
"You eaten yet? I've got to talk to Bobby. You drop off your evidence, then let's see if Sara wants some lunch."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"And I'd apologize to Greg if I were you. You know Sara's going to check. It'll make his day," she laughed at his expression.  
  
"Great. Just what we need. A more excited Greg."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"Damn!"  
  
Sara swore as she threw the pencil across the room. That was the third time in less than an hour that she had broken the pencil point due to her shaking hands. Dropping her head onto the desk, she tried to suppress the tremors.  
  
Common sense told her she should just switch to a pen, but she had always used a pencil while laying out complicated database designs. It allowed her to concentrate on defining relationships between tables without worrying about being neat.  
  
So much in her life had changed in the past few days. She desperately wanted to hold onto one old behavior, irrational as it was. Unfortunately, graphite wasn't as sturdy as her resolve.  
  
Sara intended to pursue her review with as much determination and dedication that she would give a murder investigation. She had to. While no one had come right out and said it, she knew her future was at stake. Even if she was physically able to return to work, she needed to convince Kane and her supervisors that she was mentally able as well. Completing this review in a professional manner would help.  
  
Tossing writing instruments around wouldn't.  
  
Taking a deep breath, she started to get up to retrieve the pencil when she saw Catherine and Grissom in the doorway. She couldn't tell if they were more concerned or frightened. Sara waved them in as she crossed the small room to pick the pencil up.  
  
"Come on in."   
  
Neither of her colleagues moved for a moment. It wasn't until Sara moved back behind her desk that she realized they were still outside. "It's safe. They confiscated my gun."  
  
"Well, in that case," Catherine said lightly, giving Grissom a subtle push into the room. "Nice office."  
  
Sara snorted. The "office" was little more than an overgrown closet used by Human Resources to conduct interviews. The small desk, three chairs and a lateral file cabinet practically filled the room.  
  
Catherine smiled as she walked over to the file cabinet. Sara had retrieved the flowers sent by her old advisor. That was interesting, considering she'd shown no interest in any of the other gifts she'd received. "From an old teacher, huh?" she teased, shooting Grissom a questioning look. He looked back in confusion. Did Catherine think he'd sent the flowers? Should he have?  
  
"My grad school advisor. Jimmy Kahill."  
  
Catherine walked over to take a seat. Sara was tense when they entered; this conversation didn't seem to be helping her relax. "Everything okay?"  
  
"Sure. Pencil keeps breaking, that's all."  
  
"Do you need a pen?" Grissom regretted asking the question even before she shot him an angry look. Sara was perfectly capable of getting a pen if she needed or wanted one. He could see her fighting to remain calm before she answered. It didn't work well.  
  
"No. Pencil's fine," she snapped.  
  
"Hey, Greg's running out to pick up some pizzas. Why don't you come down and join us?" Catherine said quickly. She had tried to stop Grissom from heading into the office when they heard her swearing. One of these days, he might actually learn that he was embarrassing Sara by confronting her after her outbreaks.  
  
Sara stole a quick glance at Grissom before turning to Catherine. "No thanks. I'm not too hungry."  
  
"Then you're a little hungry. You can eat a little," Grissom said firmly. He wanted to be friendly, but found it difficult to keep his temper. He knew she wasn't to blame, that he hadn't slept enough in the past few days, that his migraine had left him tense. But none of that made her outbursts any less painful.  
  
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm not in a good mood."  
  
"Could be low blood sugar. Come eat something."  
  
Sara finally turned to look at him. He didn't sound angry, but she could see the stress in his posture. Stress she had caused. He didn't deserve her treatment, but Grissom seemed to have a knack for triggering her temper lately.  
  
"Look, I appreciate this. Really, guys, I do. But you don't have to do this. You're acting like you think I'm going to jump off the roof or something."  
  
Her tone may have been flippant, but their reactions weren't. Catherine blushed and turned away quickly, but Grissom actually paled to the point she worried he'd faint. He stared at her desperately, the pain clear in his eyes.  
  
"God, you actually think ... you think I'd ..." Sara tried to keep her voice calm. "I was just joking." How messed up did they think she was? How messed up was she?  
  
"No," Grissom whispered. "No," he repeated in a firm tone. "No, I don't. That's not something to joke about, Sara."  
  
"Sorry. It's either joke or cry. And I'm damned tired of crying," she said, fighting to keep the tears away. Now she understood why he was being so kind to her. It would have taken a major event for him to abandon his normally reclusive ways. Sara jumped when Grissom pulled her from the chair.  
  
"Let's eat," he said, leading her from the room, his tone leaving no room for argument. A still-stunned Catherine quickly moved to join them. Once downstairs, Grissom released his grip on Sara's arm, but stayed close, as if to prevent her from bolting.  
  
Entering the break room, Sara took an empty seat beside Warrick. Grissom was forced to sit at the other end of the table. He tried to calm his pulse down as she clearly avoided looking his way. After a quick lunch, he left the room without saying a word.  
  
Sara closed her eyes briefly when he stormed out. She didn't know what to say. Despite his statement to the contrary, she knew he really was concerned about her mental state. That thought scared her more than anything else. She knew she wasn't in a position to accurately judge her own state of mind.  
  
She knew she wasn't in complete control, but hadn't realized it was so bad that her friends thought she was suicidal. It certainly explained all the extra attention they had been giving her. It was touching, if a bit overwhelming.  
  
It also made her feel guilty. Her friends didn't need that type of pain. But how do you reassure someone that you're not suicidal? Just saying so wouldn't be very convincing. Bringing her emotional outbursts under control would probably help, but that was something she had little control over at the moment.  
  
Finishing off her one slice of pizza, she headed back to her office. Once Grissom calmed down, she needed to apologize to him. Again. He didn't deserve the abuse she was throwing at him, but he always seemed to be the one who triggered her anger. And he stayed around for more.  
  
A sad smile crossed her face as Sara thought of all he had done for her since the accident. Less than a week ago, she would have cherished that kind of attention from Grissom. But not at this cost. He must be in terrible pain, and she couldn't bear to be the source of it.  
  
Her dark mood lifted somewhat when she entered the room. Sitting on her desk were a dozen brand-new sharpened pencils. 


	23. Ch 23

Chapter 23  
  
At the end of shift, Sara reluctantly packed away her files and sorted through the stack of phone messages she wanted to return. Like the amount of gifts, it was growing shorter each night. Deciding it was too early to call, she set aside most of the messages for the weekend.  
  
Six messages, though, caught her eye. They were from the Hernandez family. Apparently, they never gave Darby permission to speak to Teresa. The reporter had sneaked in when her parents went to eat lunch after she had interviewed them.  
  
Knowing that the girl's family hadn't talked about the what had happened on the bus made Sara feel a little better. She had been hurt when she saw the paper. That was an experience that she would have preferred to remain a secret. It had seemed like Teresa's parents understood it was a difficult subject for her, and they didn't even know the entire truth.  
  
She knew she'd never forget what happened on that bus, but she had hoped to keep it private. Now everyone else would keep reminding her of it. To make matters worse, the news article painted her in a heroic light. Despite the facts, Sara doubted she'd ever see the incident that way.  
  
The later messages from Teresa's parents just urged her to call. She figured they probably wanted to apologize. That was an emotional roller coaster she wasn't ready to face right now. The upcoming award ceremony was going to be taxing enough. Folding the messages, she packed them into her bag, along with her new - if somewhat battered - pencils.  
  
She smiled sadly as she put them away. That simple act of kindness after her curt behavior had been one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for her. Considering the source, it was all the more poignant.  
  
Unfortunately, she'd have to repay him with more pain. Sara knew that it was difficult for Grissom to open up to her, yet he had. Even after the number of times she'd hurt him, he hadn't pulled back. Now, after he had exposed himself, she would have to turn him away. She didn't know why Grissom was triggering her anger, but until she could control it, she'd needed to keep him at a distance. She cared too much to continue to hurt him. But would he understand?  
  
Suddenly, Sara paused. Had Grissom been trying to protect her, by pushing her away? He had hurt her occasionally with his behavior; maybe he had realized that he was doing so, and kept a distance to prevent himself from hurting her more.  
  
If so, it probably backfired. The distance on top of the pain hurt worse. Of course, she had had no idea why he had behaved the way he did. She'd at least make sure Grissom knew why she needed to do this.  
  
Grabbing the last of her things, she headed off to find her supervisor. She should tell him right away, but that would be an intense scene. Who knew how long it would take her to regain her composure afterwards? It would be better to wait until after the awards ceremony.  
  
She quickly found Grissom, struggling in the locker room to get his tie into a position which looked professional without choking off his air supply. The normally stoic scientist looked comical as he lost a battle with the strip of silk. She chuckled softly at the sight.  
  
Any trace of humor disappeared when he turned angrily towards the door. Grissom quickly smiled when he saw who it was, but not before she saw the look of aggravation in his eyes. She returned the smile nervously before breaking eye contact and wrapping her arms around herself.  
  
After an awkward silence, she took a deep breath and walked over to the row of lockers. Leaning against the last one, she gave him an apologetic smile. "You know, that's just not fair."  
  
Grissom eyed her cautiously. Mobley had called him earlier to tell him that the photographer Sara confronted at the church had received three death threats during the night. This would only aggravate the media pressure on her and that fact was causing his stomach to churn. The laughter had caught him by surprise and hadn't sat well with his mood.  
  
He regretted his reaction the moment he realized who was laughing. Grissom hoped he hadn't upset her. Still, she seemed nervous, rather than angry. He decided to follow her lead. "What isn't fair?"  
  
"You guys can just change a tie and pass it off as a new outfit. We have to completely change clothes."  
  
He returned her smile, realizing she was trying to lighten the mood again. "Spoken like someone who's never had to wear a tie," he said, fidgeting with the material again. "And I am wearing a clean shirt."  
  
"Trade you a tie for hose and heels any day," she said, giving him a shy smile.  
  
"I'll pass, thanks."  
  
"Smart man," Sara laughed, looking around to see if anyone else was in the room.  
  
"I'll be done in a minute if you want to change," he offered.  
  
"Always the gentleman. No, thanks. I'm going to see my parents before the ceremony. I'll borrow their shower and I'll change then."  
  
Grissom watched as she returned to her previous position leaning against the lockers. It seemed like she wanted to ask him something, but was hesitant.  
  
"Do you need a ride to Bellagio's?"  
  
"To the hospital actually. Don't worry," Sara added hastily when he looked panicked. "My SUV's still there. I just need to pick it up."  
  
"Okay. I'll meet you in the garage in a minute," he said, giving up on his tie. She quickly grabbed the outfit Catherine had retrieved from her apartment and walked towards the garage.  
  
"Sara!"  
  
"Hey, Greg. What's up?" Sara asked, walking into the DNA lab.  
  
"I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn't realize you didn't like that nickname."  
  
"S'okay. You wouldn't have known," Sara said. "Sorry I jumped down your throat. I'm a, uh, ..."  
  
"Little stressed?" Greg ventured hesitantly.  
  
"Yeah," Sara said, giving him a brief grin. "You could say that. Did Grissom apologize?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She smiled at the sound of utter shock in Greg's voice. Guess he didn't think she was serious.  
  
"So, I hear you've been given a special project."  
  
Her smile became forced. The lab tech's tone indicated he knew what was going on. Had he figured it out or was the office gossip that fast?  
  
"Yeah. Special project. I'll be reviewing everyone's work," she said, raising her eyebrows pointedly.  
  
"Make sure to tell me what I'm doing wrong! I want to get into the field! You know, you can come talk to me any time. Give me pointers. Like what to do when I feel like everything's falling apart. Or I can't get my hands to stop shaking," he said with a wink.  
  
Shaking her head, she gave his shoulder a playful punch. He probably understood better than the others what she was going through. "I'll remember that. If you need it. And Greg? If you want to go into the field, dress more conservatively. You scare Grissom."  
  
"I scare Grissom?" Greg blinked in confusion. "And what's wrong with my clothes?"  
  
Giving the lab tech a grin, she continued down the hall to the garage. Grissom was waiting beside his Tahoe, the passenger side door already open.  
  
"You didn't have to pull in here, you know? I'm tired of hiding from those reporters. It's just as easy to ignore them."  
  
"Well, actually, it got worse," he said, explaining what had happened to the photographer. "They'll probably grill you at the press conference. Mobley tried to cancel it, but the governor insisted."  
  
"It's all right. I was expecting something like that. I won't blow up at them," she said, giving him a rueful smile. "That's usually reserved for you. Sorry about that. I don't mean to do it."  
  
"It okay," he said kindly.  
  
"No, Grissom, it's not. There's nothing okay about it. You don't deserve it and I don't like it," she said, wiping her eyes. Damn. She didn't want to do this now. She needed to keep her control for later. After fidgeting for a moment, she turned to him with a nervous expression. "Could we talk? After the ceremony some time?"  
  
"Of course. Any time you want. We have time now if you want. I was just going to grab some coffee before heading to Bellagio's."  
  
"Later would be better. If that's okay."  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Thanks. I appreciate it," Sara said, turning to stare out the side window.  
  
"Any time."  
  
Not sure what else to say, Grissom drove to the hospital quietly. Sara's request intrigued him. She had seemed hesitant to ask. Did she think he'd turn her down? Sara broke the silence when he pulled into the garage to tell him she was on the top floor. When he pulled up beside her SUV, she finally spoke.  
  
"I'm not crazy."  
  
Grissom watched as she snapped her head up, a blush creeping up her face. Apparently, she hadn't meant to say that out loud. He shifted so he was facing her, giving her a smile. "I know."  
  
"I know you're worried that I'm going to do something stupid, but you don't have to be. I would never do that. Nothing could ever be so bad that I'd kill myself," she said softly, before laughing darkly. "Of course, that would sound more believable coming from someone who didn't keep breaking into tears."  
  
"I know," he repeated, joining her laughter. "Sara, I don't think you'd ever hurt yourself, but I'm still going to worry. I'm not going to say I understand what you're going through. I don't. But I do know this has to be hell on you."  
  
She gave him a quick smile before jumping out of the vehicle. She didn't want to have this conversation here or now. Walking around to the driver's side, she leaned into his open window to give his arm a brief squeeze. "Thanks. I'll see you later, Grissom."  
  
Sara gave him a friendly wave as he pulled away. Sinking into the driver's seat, she closed her eyes, and willed herself to relax before heading out. She was going to a posh hotel where her non-materialistic parents were staying in a luxury suite. There would be another press conference where she had to remain calm. Then she had to confront Grissom. She had an entire weekend afterwards to spend with her parents.  
  
Wondering if the day could possibly get worse, Sara pulled out of the garage, unaware that just a short distance away, a young girl was being transferred into an intensive care ward. 


	24. Ch 24

Chapter 24  
  
Keeping her head down and quickly crossing the hotel lobby, Sara hoped to get to her parent's suite in private. Unfortunately, she had been recognized and stopped several times by well-meaning guests before a hotel security guard arrived. She gave him a grateful smile as he politely escorted her to the bank of elevators and appropriated one for her sole use.  
  
Once the doors closed, Sara let out a nervous breath. Crowds had never bothered her before, but all the attention directed her way was becoming disconcerting. Even on the drive over, people were pointing her out as she was stopped at a traffic light. Didn't anyone have better things to do?  
  
She'd seen plenty of celebrities since moving to Las Vegas. The non-stop parties and gambling made it a mecca for the famous and infamous. But she would never dream on walking up to one of them and starting a conversation, unless work-related. She valued her own privacy too much to think of intruding on someone else's. Others didn't seem to have that concern, though.  
  
The intensity of the public's reaction continued to surprise her. She wasn't used to being the center of attention and didn't like the constant violations of her personal space. It was becoming more difficult keeping her composure under the scrutiny. She wondered briefly if that was part of the reason why she was snapping at Grissom - he was an escape valve.  
  
If so, she needed to find another release. She wanted, at the very least, to still be friends with him when this was all over. Of course, she didn't know how he'd react after their upcoming talk. Her rejection could just as easily drive him off. It seemed she was damned whatever she did.  
  
Reaching out to push the button to her parent's floor, Sara swore as her hand started shaking again. How long would this take to go away? She knew she needed to be patient, but she also knew that her position couldn't be held indefinitely.  
  
As much as she hated the idea, Sara knew she had better come up with a contingency plan in case she couldn't return to the field. A lab position was a possibility, if she could handle it without flashbacks. But would she be satisfied with that? There was always grad school. Kahill's note had said she could return any time she wanted. As the elevator doors opened, she pushed those thoughts away. There would be plenty of time to decide what to do later.  
  
Checking the room number she'd written down earlier, Sara stepped out of the elevator and headed down the hallway to her parent's room. Her knock was answered almost immediately. Before she even had time to say "hello" her father had pulled her into a bear hug and kissed the top of her head.  
  
After a similar response from her mother, Sara entered the room and let out an appreciative whistle. Bellagio's had spared no expense. This suite looked to be larger than her own apartment. "You should see the bathroom," her father teased as she inspected the room.  
  
"I will in a bit. Do I need a map to get there?"  
  
Her parent's exchanged a nervous glance, making Sara wonder if someone had called them after her incident in the Drying Room. Stepping further into the suite, she saw the stack of newspapers spread across the coffee table and sofa in the sitting area. The television was on and the tail-end of the news report was talking about the memorial last night.  
  
Walking over to the couch, she sat down and started looking through the stories. Her parents exchanged another nervous look. Sara tried not to smile. She had learned to read her parents accurately at a very young age. "Which one has you worried?"  
  
"All of them," her mother said, sitting beside her.  
  
"How are you holding up?"  
  
"Barely, Dad, just barely," Sara said, blinking back the tears that were threatening again.  
  
Her mother wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "Don't try to hold it in, dear. You'll feel better once you get it out."  
  
For the first time in her adult life, Sara leaned into her mother and started crying.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Sipping his coffee, Grissom quickly scanned the large ballroom again. Neither Sara nor her parents had arrived yet and he was on his third cup of coffee. He had come straight to Bellagio's after leaving the hospital and had taken up a position which gave him a full view of the room. Glancing at his watch, he tried to relax. It was still early. The ceremony wouldn't begin for another 20 minutes and it would take her time to shower and change.  
  
Moving away from his corner outpost, Grissom headed to his assigned table. His staring wouldn't get her here any sooner and Catherine kept flashing him dirty looks. He wasn't deliberately avoiding the team; he just didn't have a clear view of the room from the table.  
  
Although he knew it was unnecessary, he found himself worrying when Sara wasn't in sight. He'd often felt protective of her in the past - when she worked too long, became too involved for a case, when she volunteered to be a decoy - but the feeling was more intense now. A lot of feelings were more intense. Normally, that would cause him to pull back, but Sara's well-being was more important.  
  
Grissom found that realization to be both frightening and invigorating.  
  
Unfortunately, he wouldn't be sitting with her. Between the politicians and her family, the large main table was filled. He doubted if his presence at the table would help Sara's nerves any, but he would have felt better being closer to her.  
  
Fortunately, he wouldn't be seated with Ecklie or Hodges, either. He grinned as the obnoxious lab tech cornered both the day-shift supervisor and Carvallo. Hodges had gone all out; the three-piece suit looked tailored and he was trying his best to impress his supervisors. A fleeting thought of rescuing them passed his mind, but Grissom quickly pushed it away. He hadn't hired the pain in the ass.  
  
Most of the night shift had arrived and were sampling the pre-ceremony "snacks" the hotel had provided. Large tables along one wall held baskets of muffins, danishes and bagels. One table held enough fruit to have prevented scurvy for Magellan's entire voyage. While he considered himself somewhat daring in the culinary department, Grissom wasn't sure he could have identified all the varieties in the display. Another series of empty tables were set up along the opposite wall, probably to hold the brunch to be served at the end of the ceremony.  
  
It was interesting to see so many of his people in dress clothes at the same time. Normally, the only time they ever dressed up was for court or a funeral. Jacqui looked surprisingly elegant in a simple dark blue dress. Bobby seemed uncomfortable and kept adjusting his tie. Greg, well, he was Greg. The gray suit and blue shirt were sharp-looking, but the fractal-patterned tie looked like it had survived an explosion at the Day-Glo paint factory. At least it suited him.  
  
Joining the rest of his team, Grissom listened politely to the conversation, but continued to scan the room on a regular basis. A commotion from the main door signaled her arrival, along with the governor and mayor. Even from this distance, he could see her tense posture. The obviously staged entrance wasn't Sara's style and the standing ovation wasn't helping her nerves.  
  
After posing for a series of photographs, the group broke up as they entered the room. Sara started introducing her parents to different people as they headed towards the main table set at the front of the room. It was easy to see where she got her build; both of her parents had the same tall and lean frame.  
  
It seemed they were getting along well. Her father had a protective arm wrapped around Sara and her mother would occasionally lean in and say something which caused her to laugh. Catching Grissom's inspection, Sara flashed him brief grin. He was happily surprised at how well she was holding up. Photographers had started taking pictures the minute she had entered, and were following her progress around the room. Grissom hoped they weren't trying to trigger a response.  
  
By the time they reached the rest of the CSI's, there wasn't time for anything but brief introductions. Grissom smiled reassuringly as she passed by. From a distance she looked nice and would photograph well. But up close he could see the strain. It was obvious that she'd been crying and that she was wearing more makeup than normal to cover the dark circles under her eyes.  
  
There seemed to be a contest between the various politicos over who could give the most drawn-out speech, but Sara remained composed during the entire ordeal. The only outward sign of stress she gave was the false smile she used for all the posed photographs. He did notice that she kept her hands clasped tightly behind her back whenever possible.  
  
As he expected, the press questions focused heavily on the death of Hunter Lawrence and the encounter with the photographer the night before. Sara gave polite, if somewhat vague, answers to all the questions. Mobley ended the session when it became clear the repeated questions were starting to irritate her.  
  
The mood lightened as brunch began. Even from across the room, it was clear an interesting conversation was taking place between Sara's parents and the governor. He had asked them a question and from the shocked expressions around the table, their answer had been unexpected.  
  
"Can you read their lips from here?" Catherine whispered.  
  
"That would be eavesdropping."  
  
"No, huh?"  
  
"They keep looking away."  
  
"Too bad. I'd love to know what that conversation is like. Sara seems to be holding up okay."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"How are you doing?"  
  
"Fine."  
  
"Sure, Gil."  
  
Grissom turned to give Catherine a curious look. "I'm fine."  
  
"Sure, Gil," she repeated, giving him a friendly smile. "That's why you're shredding that roll instead of eating it."  
  
Looking down at his plate, he realized she was right. He was nervous. At least the reporters had been kicked out after the last award had been presented. Sara could at least eat in peace. Turning towards the main table, he caught her eye and she gave him a smile. She seemed bemused by the ongoing conversation between her parents and the politicians.  
  
He nodded towards to the buffet table and excused himself. Sara mimicked his actions a moment later and they met by a display of crème puffs.  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Hey. You look nice."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You did good up there. I wouldn't have been that patient with those questions."  
  
"Told you I wasn't going to snap. Wouldn't give them the pleasure of knowing they're getting to me."  
  
"Good," he said happily. That was his old Sara speaking.  
  
"Here," she said, slipping him a piece of paper. "Mom and Dad are going to play tourist for the day. I'll be crashing in their room. If you're still up for it, you can stop by later. For our talk."  
  
"Sure. Do you want to get some sleep first?"  
  
"It doesn't matter. I'm not the one who has to work tonight."  
  
"True. Well, I'm already here. I'll go up about 10 minutes after you leave. Give you a chance to unwind a little."  
  
"Thanks," she said, looking back towards her parents. The mayor was staring at them in shock. Sara chuckled.  
  
"Do I even want to know what's going on up there?"  
  
"Probably not. My parents have some interesting views on the death penalty."  
  
Grissom stepped closer, and leaned to whisper in her ear. "You going to be okay? With them? I know you've said you get on each other nerves if you're together too long."  
  
"Yeah. I'll be fine," she said shakily. The warmth of his breath had sent shivers down her spine.  
  
"If you need a break, give me a call. You can come over for dinner, or we can catch a movie."  
  
"Uh. Well. Thanks. Um, I better get back up there. See you later, Grissom," she said nervously, giving him a brief grin before leaving.  
  
He smiled as he picked up some pastries. She hadn't said no. 


	25. Ch 25

Chapter 25  
  
Grissom smiled as he milled around the room. Sara had handled the awards ceremony remarkably well. With this last event over, the media attention which had focused on her these past few days would start to die off. That would relieve some of her stress. Things should only get better for her from here on out.  
  
He gave compulsory greetings to the politicians and civic leaders in the crowd but kept an eye on Sara. She was standing with her parents, saying good-bye to various people as they left the ballroom. By the time he could join her, Sara's parents had already hugged her and left.  
  
Catherine and Warrick reached her a moment before Grissom arrived.  
  
"Your parents left?"  
  
"Yeah. They offered to play tourist this afternoon while I get some sleep. We're going out to dinner tonight and over to Red Rock tomorrow. I think I'm just going to spend the whole weekend here. The hotel gave them a huge two-bedroom suite."  
  
"Going to enjoy the life of luxury, huh? Might as well. Can't afford one of those suites on our salary. I'll bring over your clothes and stuff from my house later."  
  
"That would be great, Cath."  
  
"Give us a call if you need anything."  
  
"Thanks, Warrick. Hey, Grissom. Guys, I'm going to go now, okay? See you later," she said, smiling at her supervisor. He nodded as she left.  
  
"You should head home, Gil. You look beat," Catherine told him kindly.  
  
"Later. I'm going to hang around for a bit longer. Talk to some people."  
  
"Okay," she said suspiciously. Why was Grissom voluntarily staying at a social event? Something was up. "Call me if there's any trouble."  
  
Giving her a smile, he walked over to talk to Dr. Robbins. Catherine and Warrick exchanged shrugs. Even compared to the rest of this week, a sociable Grissom was an oddity.  
  
~~~~  
  
"Damn! Damn! Damn!"  
  
Sara swore as she paced the room. Had Grissom asked her on a date? It seemed that way. After all this time, he finally decided to make a move and it was just before she was going to tell him to back off. The man had to have the worst timing in the world. Any other time, and Sara would have been elated. But she couldn't even deal with him as a friend now, let alone as a lover. She had to get her emotions under control; her temper was hurting him, but scarring her own soul.  
  
This certainly complicated matters. Sara knew he would be hurt when she rebuked his offers of friendship. How was he going to react to having his romantic overtures rejected?  
  
"Dammit!"  
  
Wishing she had a cigarette, Sara marched over the mini-bar instead. Reaching inside, she grabbed the first bottle and took a swig. The whiskey burned down her throat and shocked her back to reality. What the hell was she doing? She hated whiskey. Why was she drinking it, alone, this early in the day? That wasn't a good sign. Damn.  
  
Heading to the bathroom, she dumped the remainder of the bottle in the sink while searching for some mouthwash. Greeting Grissom smelling like a drunk could only make things worse. She was on her fourth rinse when the knock came.  
  
For a moment she considered not answering. This was going to hurt him and she didn't want to do that. Letting out a sigh, she headed to the door. She was going to hurt him either way, and at least she'd be honest with him. She owed him that much.  
  
Grissom realized something was wrong the moment she opened the door. Sara seemed almost frightened. She shook her head when he reached in to touch her. He followed her into the suite, sitting on one end of the couch while she settled into the far corner.  
  
Watching her closely, he noticed she was holding her hands tightly. Even so, he could detect the trembling. Had something triggered another flashback? "Sara, are you okay?"  
  
After a few moments, she took a deep breath and gave him a sad smile.  
  
"Have you ever been in a position where, no matter what you do, no matter what you want, it's going to be painful?"  
  
"Tell me what's wrong," he said tenderly.  
  
"I wish I knew. Maybe I could fix it, then," she said. "I'm sorry, Grissom. I know I've been acting like a bitch around you, and I'm not sure why. You've been going out of your way to help me, and I've treated you like dirt. You don't deserve it and I am sorry."  
  
He reached over to rest his hand on top of hers, but pulled back when she tensed. "It's normal, after what you've been through. I understand that. I can deal with it," he said gently.  
  
"I'm sorry," she repeated, her voice low and desolate. "I can't. I can't live with that."  
  
"What?" Grissom paled. She couldn't 'live' with it? What was she planning to do? No. She couldn't be that desperate. Ignoring her earlier rebuke, he reached over to grab her hand.  
  
Sara looked up in confusion, the pain in his voice and expression obvious. She shook her head when she realized her mistake. That had sounded suicidal. Damn. She hurt him again.  
  
"No. I didn't mean that. It came out wrong. Sorry," she said, giving him a smile. He didn't relax. "Grissom, I swear, that's not what I meant. I'd never do that to you. Please, believe me. I'd never hurt you that way," she said, rubbing her free hand over his.  
  
"Then what did you mean?" His tone was harsh, but Sara understood he was still nervous. She was screwing this up.  
  
"I can't deal with hurting you. I know I am, and I hate myself for it. That's what I can't stand to do any more. It's tearing me apart."  
  
Grissom tried to remain calm. What was she talking about? Her talk about 'not living with it' scared him. The desolation in her voice was clear. Just how depressed was she?  
  
"Hey, honey, it'll be okay. Whatever's wrong, we'll get through it. I'm here for you. I'm not going to leave you."  
  
"God," she said, pulling away from him and dropping her head into her hands. Sara knew he was just trying to help, but he was setting himself up for more pain. He really did have terrible timing.  
  
Grissom felt the panic rising. That wasn't a response he had expected. Well, she had reason not to trust him. He hadn't been there for her before. Seeing that words alone weren't going to comfort her, he slid next to her. Pulling her into a hug, he brushed his lips tenderly against her hair.  
  
"Sara, I lo..."  
  
"Don't! God, please, don't say it," she pleaded, jumping up to head to the window. When he started to follow, she held up her hands. "Stay. Just stay there, please. Don't do this to me, Grissom. Please. I can't deal with it, not now."  
  
"What's wrong?" Grissom watched her nervously. She had wrapped her arms around herself and was leaning against the wall for support. He could see the tears rolling down her face.  
  
"I don't know. I don't know and that scares the hell out of me," she said softly. Closing her eyes, she tried to fight back the tears. He really had been about to say it. This was going to hurt him worse than she thought. Still, if she didn't put some distance between them, neither would survive unscathed.  
  
"Can I help?" Grissom slowly took a step in her direction. He didn't want to startle her, but he needed to be closer.  
  
"I need you to do me a favor, but I think it's going to hurt you."  
  
"I'll do anything. Just come sit down, okay?"  
  
"I need you to back off, Grissom."  
  
"I just want to help," he said, taking another step towards her.  
  
"No. I need you to back off all the time. I need some space, some time alone."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
This time, she reacted when he took another step, moving back to the couch. "Stay back! Dammit, stay back! Look, I don't know why, but you make me angry. I can't control it. It scares me and it hurts like hell when I realize what I've done to you. I need you to stay away from me until I get this under control! I just can't be near you now. Please. Don't do this to me."  
  
Grissom watched her in confusion. Why was she doing this? Her comments and behavior scared him; it came out as anger.  
  
"So what do you expect me do to? Just ignore you? Do you think I could do that?"  
  
"You didn't have any trouble doing it the past year!" she spat out. Seeing the look of pain on his face, she sank to the floor. Leaning against the couch, she started to cry. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. This is what I'm talking about. I can't keep doing this."  
  
He knelt beside her. What had he done? "Don't, Sara. It's my fault. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell." When she didn't pull back, he wrapped an arm around her. "You're right. I did ignore you. I'm sorry. I deserved that."  
  
"And that's supposed to make it all right? God, I know I have no self-control right now, but I'd like to pretend I'm more mature than a little kid. You're right. You hurt me. But that doesn't give me the right to hurt you back. I can't do that to you. Don't you understand?"  
  
"It doesn't bother me," he lied.  
  
"It bothers me. I can't be that type of person, Grissom. This is tearing me up."  
  
"Look, I know you're under a lot of stress right now. But this will blow over in time. You'll be back to your old self soon enough. I want to help. I can stand a few bruises to my ego."  
  
She looked up at him and gave him a sad smile. He looked so desperate. Reaching over to caress his face, she let out a long sigh.  
  
"You don't get it, do you? My 'old self' never got off that bus, Grissom. I don't know who did, or how much of the old 'me' is even left. Or how much will ever come back. But I do know that every time I hurt you, a little bit of the 'old me' dies. It's like I'm killing of a piece of my soul each time it happens. I can't continue doing it. Not just for you, but for me as well."  
  
Grissom closed his eyes and reached up to clasp her hand. He hadn't realized how badly this had affected her. In five days, her entire world had been pulled out from under her.  
  
"Please, if you want to help, just give me some time," Sara pleaded. "I don't want to hurt you. But if you don't pull back, we're both are going to get hurt. That's not something I can deal with now."  
  
"Do you really think it'll help?" he whispered.  
  
"It has to."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Thanks," she said, pulling her hand back, but keeping a grip on his. His pain was so obvious; she tried to cheer him up. "Look, you don't have to treat me like a leper, just don't push. Give me some space, keep some distance. I don't know how long it'll take, but until I get some control, you just have to leave me alone."  
  
"Tell me what to do. I'm not good at this stuff. Let me know if I'm 'pushing', okay? And let me know when I can get closer."  
  
"I will. I meant what I said. This isn't about you; it's my problem. I need to work this out. Don't blame yourself. Hell, if you'd shown this interest last week ..."  
  
"Don't rub it in."  
  
"I'm not. Really. Can you be patient? I wouldn't blame you if weren't."  
  
"I can wait," he said softly, standing up and pulling Sara with him. "I guess I owe you that much."  
  
"Thanks," she said, walking towards the door. Taking her hint that the discussion was over, Grissom followed, but hesitated before leaving.  
  
"Just promise me, one thing. Let me know, if there's anything you need. If I can do anything to help. Don't leave me out of this."  
  
"I promise."  
  
"Good-bye."  
  
"Bye," Sara said. Once the door was closed, she sank back to the floor and started crying.  
  
~~~~  
  
Catherine yawned deeply as she stepped off of the elevator, silently giving thanks that Sara would be spending the weekend with her parents. While she didn't resent helping her colleague, she was ready for a break. Between the press, the various public functions, running errands and a general lack of sleep, she was physically beat. Dealing with both Grissom and Sara's emotional states had left her mentally exhausted.  
  
Catherine made a mental note to talk to Sara about her situation, doubting the younger woman was aware the lengths the lab would go to accommodate her recovery. She knew Sara hated the media attention, but it had made her a public relations prize the department would want to keep. Giving a silent groan when she realized it meant no one would be getting any vacation time in the immediate future, she started looking for the Sidle's suite.  
  
Yawning again, Catherine shook her head. She was amazed at how stressed she felt, when she had just been outside observer to most of this.  
  
Finding the correct door, she knocked softly. If Sara was asleep, she didn't want to disturb her. At least one of them should be getting some rest.  
  
"Mr. Sidle. Hi. Catherine Willows from the Crime Lab. I brought some of Sara's things over," she said, shaking hands with the tall man who answered.  
  
"Name's Rich. Come on in. She's still asleep. Coffee?"  
  
"That would be great," the blonde said with a smile. While she could use the caffeine, Catherine was curious to learn more about the elder Sidles. They had only been introduced briefly that morning and she hadn't had a chance to talk to them afterwards.  
  
"Jan, Catherine Willows is here. Sara told us she was staying with you. Thanks."  
  
"It was no trouble."  
  
"Of course it was."  
  
Catherine smiled as she shook the woman's hand. It was clear Sara had gotten her no-nonsense approach, as well as her looks, from her mother.  
  
"She told us all you and her other friends have done for her. I hope you know how much she appreciates it. Even if you do seem to be overly worried about certain things," the other woman said pointedly.  
  
The blonde shrugged. She must have told them about the suicide concerns. Still, she wasn't going to apologize for being worried. "I'd like to think my friends would do the same for me under similar circumstances."  
  
"I hope you never find out," Rich said softly, handing her a cup of coffee.  
  
"Yeah. This has been rough on her. It's bad enough, what she had to go through, but the press have been hounding her."  
  
"You don't have to tell us," Jan huffed. "We hadn't been off the plane 10 minutes before some reporter started following us around."  
  
"Really?" Catherine tried to keep her voice neutral. Given the couple's earlier statements to the media, she wondered what they had said this time.  
  
"It was that woman who talked to the little girl. Can you believe she broke into a hospital room to interview a child? Wanted to know what we thought of that little boy thinking Sara was his mother."  
  
"What did you tell her?"  
  
Rich grinned. It wasn't a pleasant sight. "Nothing that could be printed."  
  
"She seemed to have trouble understanding when we said 'No comment'," Jan said, giving the CSI a wink. "We had to spell it out for her."  
  
"In great detail."  
  
"With small words, generally not exceeding four letters."  
  
"Oh," Catherine laughed. Despite her earlier misgivings about Sara's parents, she found herself liking the eccentric couple. "Did she leave you alone after that?"  
  
"She did seem to hurry off rather quickly."  
  
A muffled scream erupted from the bedroom, causing Catherine to jerk, spilling some of her coffee. Rich merely looked at his watch, saying "A little over three hours" to his wife, who shrugged.  
  
The CSI stared at them in shock. They didn't seem to be concerned about Sara. When neither made a move to check on their daughter, the blonde set down the coffee cup. Rich placed a restraining hand on her shoulder before she could get up.  
  
"It's best to leave her alone," he said.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Nightmares always leave her edgy. It's not good to bother her after one," he said.  
  
"I think you know what we're talking about," his wife said, pointing to Catherine's busted lip.  
  
"Oh. Yeah. That. I spooked her. My fault, actually"  
  
"I doubt Sara would agree," Rich said, pointing to his nose. The blonde could tell it had been broken. "Did this when she was six. That bothered her more than the nightmare did."  
  
"Six?" Catherine asked in shock. While lean, Sara's father was strongly built. It was hard to imagine an adult being able to hurt him, let alone a young girl.  
  
"Sara's stronger than she looks," Jan said.  
  
"And faster." Catherine couldn't help smiling briefly at the proud tone of voice he used as he moved to sit beside her. "It takes her a few minutes to get her composure back. It really is best to leave her alone until then. She doesn't like to be seen when she's that upset."  
  
"I sometimes wonder if the reason she wants so much control over her life is because she has no control over her dreams," Jan added philosophically.  
  
"You make it sound like she has nightmares all the time."  
  
"Pretty often," Rich said sadly. "Ever since she was a little girl. Usually four or five a month."  
  
"Wow. That doesn't sound good."  
  
"Just a personality quirk. Doctors said nothing could be done about them. They aren't recurrent and they don't happen just before she falls asleep," Rich sighed. Catherine gave him a curious look. "If it's the same nightmare, you can train yourself to get over them. If they happen before you fall asleep, it's hypnagogic hallucinations and that's a sign of narcolepsy."  
  
Catherine openly smiled at that. "I don't think anyone would ever accuse Sara of oversleeping."  
  
"Ha! Do you have any idea what it was like raising an overly energetic kid who never slept more than five hours?" Jan asked dramatically. "Half the time we were afraid to go downstairs in the morning, wondering what she had gotten into while we were asleep."  
  
Rich chuckled. "You have to admit, she did a pretty good job of repainting the foyer. For an 11-year-old."  
  
"And she did reorganize our registration system one morning when she was 14. Of course, it took us five weeks to figure it out, but it was a better system."  
  
"At least she wasn't a trouble maker," Catherine offered. Linds slept a good eight hours and she still had trouble keeping up with her. She couldn't imagine what Sara must have been like at that age.  
  
"If you believe that one, I've got a bridge to sell you," Rick laughed. "Oh, we knew she wasn't going to join a cult or burn down the house. She was just a different type of trouble maker."  
  
"Really?" Catherine leaned forward. This was getting interesting.  
  
"Take when she wanted a telescope. Real expensive one. You know kids, always changing their minds. Well, we told her we would pay half if she saved up the other half, thinking she'd forget about it. Instead of just saving her allowance, she hired herself out to do her older brother's math homework. Was doing it for about six of his friends as well."  
  
"By-the-book Sara?"  
  
"Yeah. We didn't find out until there was a pop-quiz. They all failed it, even though they were getting perfect homework scores."  
  
"When we confronted her about it, she said it didn't matter if any of them could do math or not," Jan added. "She said they were all too dumb to figure out that only one of them had to pay and the rest could have copied."  
  
Catherine chuckled. Sara as a homework con-artist. Warrick and Nick would love this story.  
  
At the sound of movement coming from the next room, Rich got up and poured another cup of coffee, adding an unhealthy dose of cream and sugar. He was halfway across the suite when Sara stalked out of the bedroom pulling on one of the hotel's plush robes. "Here, sweetheart," he said, handing her the cup, then pulling her into a hug. "You up for some company?"  
  
Looking around, she gave Catherine a wave, before talking to her father in a low voice. The conversation went on for a short time, with the brunette leaning against him for support.  
  
"Excuse me," Jan said, walking over wrap her arms around her daughter. Catherine studied the pattern on the coffee cup, resisting the urge to watch, but glad that she and her parents were that comfortable together.  
  
After a few minutes, Sara leaned in to give her father's cheek a kiss and then to return her mother's hug. Wiping her eyes, she headed towards the bathroom, pausing to give Catherine another brief wave before disappearing into the room.  
  
"She's still jumpy; going to soak for a bit. Try to relax some. She said she'd she you Sunday night at work," Rich said, apologetically. "More coffee?"  
  
"No, thanks. I better get going. Have to fix dinner for my kid. It was nice meeting you. Sara has my cell number. Call me if you need anything."  
  
Leaving the suite, Catherine made a mental note to apologize to Sara for judging her parents earlier.  
  
Heading home, she gave a silent prayer that they would be able to help their daughter. 


	26. Ch 26

Chapter 26  
  
Looking over the top of his crossword puzzle, Grissom shot Nick and Warrick an irritated look as they hollered over some event in their video game, but bit back his reprimand. They had as much right to be here as he did and he knew he'd been unfairly terse with his team over the weekend. His encounter with Sara had left him unsettled and he had taken it out on the others.  
  
After leaving the hotel, he had returned home and for the first time it seemed empty. It was another feeling he was having trouble understanding. He had tried to process his earlier conversation with Sara, but found he didn't even know where to start. Grissom realized he had spent too much time avoiding even simple emotional encounters to be able to understand something this complex.  
  
Sitting alone on his couch, he had replayed their conversation, trying to comprehend the conflicting emotions. Her adamant statements for him to back off had stung, but the tenderness with which she said she just needed time made his pulse race.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, Grissom had eventually decided to just trust Sara.  
  
Finally heading off to bed, he tried unsuccessfully to stop replaying one bit of the conversation: 'I can't live with it'. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to ignore the fear, knowing it was just a figure of speech. Still, he had been on edge ever since Warrick had raised the specter of suicide. Now, he found himself analyzing every word, every action she took. Her use of that phrase made him nervous.  
  
After spending the weekend worrying about her, Grissom found himself anxious to see Sara.  
  
At the sound of approaching footsteps, he peered over the top of his puzzle, disappointed that it was Catherine.  
  
"You're in early."  
  
"Stolen car was found. Bag in the trunk was covered in spiders. No one else would go near it," he said, not pointing out the obvious: the entire team was in early. Apparently, he wasn't the only one eager to see Sara. Tonight would be her first night back since the ceremony.  
  
"Uh, huh. And you just decided to hang around," Catherine said, smiling as she went to pour some coffee. She gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she passed, understanding that he was concerned.  
  
Her amusement vanished when Sara did arrive. Instead of a friendly greeting, he pointedly checked his watch when she walked in. "Shift doesn't start for another 45 minutes."  
  
"Yeah, I know. I'm early. Just dropped my parents off. Figured I'd read some before starting," she said calmly. Grissom merely nodded before returning to his puzzle. Catherine shared a shocked look with the guys, before turning to Sara, who had grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. She didn't appear to be bothered by his snub.  
  
"Have a good time with your folks?" Nick asked softly, moving over to take a seat across from her.  
  
"Yeah, actually I did," she said honestly, reaching into her bag to pull out a book and notepad. Expecting a forensics textbook or some light reading on quantum mechanics, Catherine did a double-take when she saw the title.  
  
"'Bonsai for Beginners'?"  
  
"It's my new ... hobby," she said between gritted teeth.  
  
"When did you ever have an old hobby?" Nick teased.  
  
"I used to chase rabbits," she said softly. While the others exchanged confused looks, Grissom glanced up from behind his puzzle, but Sara wouldn't meet his eyes. He was glad she would be giving up that 'hobby', but regretted the reasons responsible.  
  
"Bonsai, huh? Now I know you're a control freak," Warrick muttered.  
  
Nick laughed. "What's up, Sar? First you become a vegetarian, now you're going to torture trees? Got something against plants?"  
  
"No," she said firmly, giving each of her colleagues a knowing look. "You have to stop psycho-analyzing everything I do, guys."  
  
Grissom nodded minutely. He could take a hint. Despite appearances, he had followed the entire conversation and thought bonsai suited her. It was detail-oriented and required patience. It also wouldn't take up too much of her time, nor would it take up much room in her small apartment.  
  
"Why bonsai?" Catherine asked, darting her eyes between the two. She had caught the subtle interplay. Something was going on.  
  
Sara shrugged. "My parents suggested it, actually. One of their neighbors does it. She has some really beautiful trees. I thought about re-starting an aquarium, but my lease has a 20-gallon limit. You really can't do much with a tank that small."  
  
Grissom filed that fact away: she liked fish, at least living ones. He didn't intend to make another mistake like he had with the hamburger.  
  
"You got the stuff yet? You know Jensen's Nursery over by Henderson?" Nick asked. Sara shook her head. "They carry the supplies. Manager's a friend of mine. I can take you over, later."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Grissom flashed Nick an angry glare before catching himself. There were better stores to get the supplies, but he hadn't had a chance to mention it. Now he was worried he'd be 'pushing' if he contradicted the younger man. Abruptly leaving the room, he headed to his office, surprised by the spark of jealousy he had felt. He knew it was irrational; they were practically siblings and that there was nothing romantic about a shopping trip.  
  
Still, Grissom wished she would let him at least do that much for her.  
  
Sighing, he sank into his desk chair. He tried to push down his pain, knowing this was what Sara needed.  
  
Shifting through the night's assignments, he tried to slow his pulse rate down. Sara hadn't looked well. She was pale and it looked like she may have lost a little weight. He wanted desperately to ask how she was doing, but was afraid she'd consider that intrusive. Rubbing his temple, he waited alone until it was closer to start of the shift.  
  
"Cath, DB at Brookside Nursing Home. Brass said it looks suspicious. Nick, hit-and-run. Warrick, O'Riley's going to be interviewing the neighbors in the Wang murder. Go join him. Sara, when you start, grab Greg or Archie. There's a stack of boxes in my office with the files you wanted."  
  
She nodded, but the others glared as he stalked out of the break room. Grissom knew they were angry, but ignored it. He'd rather have them think he was a jerk than telling them Sara had rejected him.  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"Hey, there," Sara looked up when Catherine staggered into her office later that morning, carrying two cups of coffee. "You okay?"  
  
"Sure," she answered in confusion.  
  
"Look, Grissom's an idiot, okay. He's under a lot of stress and I think his migraine's been bothering him. He probably doesn't even know he was being an ass earlier," the blonde said without preamble.  
  
Sara mentally growled at her colleague's timing. Catherine's decision to play referee now, while considerate, was a problem. She had expected Grissom to be distant at first, knowing he would still be hurt and uncertain how to behave.  
  
"It's okay, Cath. One of the conditions of my being allowed to work was that I only work 40 hours. Grissom's responsible for keeping tabs on it. Don't worry about it."  
  
"Uh, huh."  
  
She swore silently when she realized the older CSI wasn't going to drop it. Sara briefly considered asking Catherine to keep an eye on Grissom, but realized there was no way of doing so without explaining what had happened. She didn't think he'd appreciate if she shared that story. But she was worried about him; she could read the tension in his body language.  
  
All weekend, she had fought the temptation to call him to see if he was okay. Sara already knew that he wasn't and calling would only throw him off balance. After insisting he back off, her initiating contact would be confusing.  
  
"Cath, really, everything's okay. Don't give him a hard time," she said, hoping her friend would get the hint.  
  
"Uh, huh."  
  
"Hey, if you see David, could you ask him to stop by?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"David. Shy guy. Glasses. Works with dead people. I need to talk to him."  
  
"Okay. I need to run by the morgue anyway," she said.  
  
"Thanks. Appreciate it," Sara said, turning back to her paperwork. If Catherine wouldn't drop the subject, then she'd change it. Judging by the startled look on the blonde's face, it had worked.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Wondering whether he had been set up for some sort of practical joke, David approached Sara's office cautiously. Coughing nervously, he knocked softly.  
  
"Hey. Come on in."  
  
"Hello, Sara. Uhm, Catherine said you wanted to see me," he squeaked.  
  
They exchanged shy grins. Sara fiddled with her pencil before finally speaking.  
  
"Yeah. Uhm. Are you, uh, free, uh, to take a break? Want to grab some coffee?"  
  
He blinked in confusion. Sara was nervous talking to him. Sara wanted to have coffee with him.  
  
"Sure! Uhm, I mean that would be nice." He blushed and they shared embarrassed grins.  
  
He suspected he knew why Sara asked to talk and his suspicions were confirmed when she finally broke the silence later at the diner.  
  
"You said you had nightmares," she said softly, staring at the coffee cup in her hands. He could tell she was unusually tense. He wasn't surprised; even after all these years, he could remember what it felt like waking up night-after-night in a cold sweat, screaming in horror.  
  
"After Tommy's accident, yes."  
  
"How long? Before they went away?" Her voice was so low he could barely hear her.  
  
"Completely? Nearly a year. But they weren't too common after the first month or two."  
  
Sara nodded her head slightly and remained silent for several minutes.  
  
"Did anything help?"  
  
"Nothing that would help you, I'm afraid," he said softly.  
  
Sara set down her coffee and cocked her head curiously.  
  
"I used to climb into bed with my parents. While I'm sure my father would be flattered if you tried it, my mother would be certain to object."  
  
Dropping her head into her hands, she chuckled softly. "David, why hasn't some woman snatched you up yet?"  
  
He blushed deeply, before laughing. "Why don't you tell me?"  
  
Giving him a grin, she shook her head and joined in the laughter.  
  
~~~~  
  
Nick found Sara leaving the locker room at the end of shift. "You ready to go?"  
  
"Sure. Want to get some breakfast first? My treat?"  
  
"Don't have to ask me twice! Let's go."  
  
Grissom watched the exchange from his office doorway and ignored them as they walked by him. He realized he probably gone too far when he heard Nick muttering and giving him a harsh look.  
  
"Azaleas."  
  
"What?" both of the younger CSIs asked in unison, turning to look at him.  
  
"Azaleas. They're easy to grow and to train. Plus, they'll be pretty when they bloom," he said kindly, as he passed them to head into the DNA lab, enjoying the smile Sara had flashed him as he walked by. 


	27. Ch 27

Chapter 27  
  
Scanning the parking lot, Nick was surprised to see the reporters had left, before he remembered that the funeral for one of the dead children was being held that morning. While he sympathized for the family, he was grateful the media had moved on to easier targets. Sara needed the break.  
  
Shooting his friend a concerned and confused look, he could see that she was tired. Normally, she didn't show outward signs until she had spent days with little rest working on a case. Her visible lack of energy was especially odd considering she wasn't working a case, let alone overtime, and she had just had a weekend off.  
  
Even stranger was the apparent nonchalance Sara seemed to be showing over Grissom's abrupt behavior changes. Nick had expected her to be hurt by their boss's sudden distance. If she was, he couldn't detect it. Giving her another look, he wondered if she had become immune to his constant attitude changes, or if she had become that good at hiding the pain.  
  
Sliding on her sunglasses, Sara tried to ignore her friend's glare. She silently cursed her miscalculation. She realized too late that the others were misinterpreting Grissom's backing off and now they thought he was being heartless. Unfortunately, she wasn't sure how to handle this latest complication.  
  
She knew Grissom was hurt and could use support, rather than condemnation. But she also knew he was the one person at the lab who valued his privacy more than she did her own. Sara wasn't sure how to explain to the others that everything was fine without revealing a very private and painful conversation.  
  
She was hoping Nick wouldn't pursue the topic, when he leaned in to nudge her shoulder. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah," she said, forcing her voice to hold a confidence she didn't feel.  
  
"Look, Sara, you don't have to ..."  
  
"I'm fine!" Seeing him jump at her bark, Sara took a deep breath before continuing in a calmer tone. "Everything's okay, Nick. You worry too much."  
  
He gave her a disbelieving look as they climbed into his truck. Sara tried to calm down, wondering why her friends were suddenly making such a big deal over something which wasn't bothering her. No one had said anything in the past when Grissom had avoided her.  
  
'Because they think I'm suicidal,' she reminded herself bitterly. While touching that her friends were concerned, it also irked her that they thought she would ever go to that extreme. She decided it was time to try and get that concern under control.  
  
"So, what're the odds?" Sara asked brightly.  
  
"What odds?" Nick asked in return, pulling out of the parking spot and heading towards Tropicana Boulevard.  
  
"In the office pool? The 'Sara-cidal' pool? What's the favorite? Jumping? Gun? Slit wrists? Drugs?"  
  
"Christ!"  
  
Sara hid her smile as Nick swore, hitting the curb as pulled onto the road.  
  
"You know, statistically speaking, drugs are your best bet. It's the preferred method used by women in this country."  
  
"Sara!"  
  
"Well, it is. Is there a time frame as well?"  
  
"What the hell kind of question is that?" Nick bellowed, turning to give her an open-mouth stare.  
  
"Watch the road! I really, really don't want to die!" Sara yelled back, then giving him a grin. "Besides, I doubt 'Caused co-worker to wreck on the way to breakfast' would be one of the choices in the pool."  
  
"There's no damn pool! We're not taking bets on it! Who the hell even told you we were worried?"  
  
"You did, just now," she smirked, raising her eyebrows when he realized he had been set up.  
  
"Dammit!" He continued to swear under his breath, giving Sara an evil look when she chuckled.  
  
She decided to give him a break when he started pounding the steering wheel in frustration. "Don't worry, Nicky. Grissom and Cath slipped up the other day. I made a crack about jumping off the roof, and I think I nearly gave them heart attacks," she said kindly.  
  
"That's nothing to joke about!"  
  
"So I've been told," she said dryly. "But it's not something you guys need to worry about. Honestly. I'd never kill myself."  
  
"I know that! I said so!" She gave her friend a smile for his vote of confidence, but couldn't resist teasing him more.  
  
"Was that before or after my performance in the Drying Room?"  
  
"Doesn't matter! Look, Sar, I know you. You're not the type to give up. I know you're going to pull through. Dammit! I said you'd get upset if you found out. I told him so."  
  
"Him who?" She turned to stare at Nick when he didn't answer immediately. She really wanted to know who had started this. It didn't seem like something Grissom would do, but if so, she really needed to find a way to reassure him. "Look, you know I'm going to get it out of you. Make it easy on yourself."  
  
"Warrick started it."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"He did some research."  
  
Sara rolled her eyes at Nick's attempt to avoid the conversation. "Keep going."  
  
"A lot of other people who were heroes - and you are one darlin'; stop trying to deny it - and had all that press attention, well, they ended up killing themselves. We just wanted to make sure you're okay. 'Cause even the ones who didn't kill themselves, well, a bunch turned to substance abuse."  
  
She nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I can understand that."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Dammit, Nick, watch the road or let me drive! I meant what I said earlier! You guys have really got to stop analyzing everything I say."  
  
"Sorry, sugar."  
  
"Nick, be honest. Do you believe me when I say I'm not suicidal? Honestly?"  
  
He gave her a brief glance. "Yeah, Sar. I believe you."  
  
She smiled at the firmness of his answer.  
  
"Then stop treating everything I do or say like it's some kind of omen!"  
  
"I guess we're coming on a bit strong, huh?"  
  
"God, Nick, you have no idea."  
  
"Just trying to help."  
  
Hearing the hurt quality in his voice, she gave him a sad smile. "I know. You guys have been great. Really, all that you guys have done, it means a lot to me. It's just, well, I, I know I'm screwed up," she said softly. "I don't think it's permanent and I really hope it's not that bad. But I'm not really in a position to be a good judge, you know? And then you guys act like you think I'm suicidal. It scares the hell out of me."  
  
"Sorry. Never realized how it would seem to you. We're just worried," he said kindly.  
  
"Given my mood swings lately, I'd be more worried 'about me' than 'for me'," she snorted.  
  
"I do both."  
  
Sara tried to give him a dirty look, but couldn't resist his teasing smile. Shaking her head, she gave him a brief grin before turning to look out the side window.  
  
"This whole thing, it's a mess. It royally screws up your life. You lose all sense of who you are and what you had. It's like nothing you knew before is the same. If someone was having troubles, and I mean serious troubles, before it started, then, yeah, I can see where something like this could push them over the edge."  
  
She flashed him a reassuring look. "But you don't have to worry about me, though. My problems weren't that bad."  
  
Nick snapped his head around in surprise, but kept his voice gentle. "What kind of troubles were you having?"  
  
When she blushed, it confirmed his suspicion that she hadn't meant to acknowledge that something had been bothering her before the accident.  
  
"Nothing, really," she said grudgingly. "Really, Nick. It's just, well, I thought, just thought, about maybe leaving the lab. It wasn't like I had made plans or anything. I was just considering it."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Sara sighed, wondering how she had get herself up for this conversation. Cursing her lack of self-control, again, she watched her colleague. Now that she had let that bombshell slip, she doubted Nick would let it drop without an explanation.  
  
"I started thinking about it after the explosion at the lab. I was lucky. If I had been a little closer, I could have been seriously messed up. It was a wake up call. Well, I guess it really made me start thinking about my life. Actually, about my serious lack of one."  
  
"You unhappy here?"  
  
"That's just it. I'm not, not really. I'm not saying that some things couldn't be better, but I like my job. It's just that sometimes it felt like it was all I had."  
  
Nick gave her a concerned look, wondering if she was aware she had just used the past tense.  
  
"I guess I wanted more, but I really don't know what it is that I wanted. Or what was keeping me from it. If it was the job, then I had no idea what I wanted to do instead. If it wasn't the job, then leaving wouldn't help and I'd lose something I liked. So, either way, leaving didn't seem like a good idea at the time. Guess you're stuck with me," she said with a lop-sided grin.  
  
Drumming his fingers nervously against the steering wheel, he didn't return the smile, but debated how to proceed. Nick could think of a lot of reasons why Sara wasn't happy at work and could trace most of them back to one person. She probably wouldn't appreciate his bringing it up, but he wanted to reassure her.  
  
"Never knew that. But don't you go blaming yourself. We both know that Gri …"  
  
"Don't go there."  
  
"I'm just sayin' ..."  
  
"Drop it, Nick! Now," she said harshly, before closing her eyes and silently counting to 10. She knew her friend meant well, but this conversation was heading into dangerous territory. While Grissom wasn't the friendliest in the past, he was doing what she needed right now. How to convince the others of that was a problem, though.  
  
Earlier, she had debated telling Catherine the truth. She was probably his closest friend in the lab and could talk to him better than the others. But she had decided it was more important to protect his privacy, than tell the blonde. Now, seeing her colleague's reaction, she knew she had to take some sort of action.  
  
"Look, I'm not going to blame others for my problems. I live my own life. Any decisions I've made - good or bad - I'm the one responsible for them, no one else."  
  
"That doesn't excuse his ..."  
  
"I said don't go there! Look, I really do appreciate all the help from you guys, but this is something I have to fix myself. I want to get back to my old life and I don't need a baby-sitter all the time. It's getting to be a bit too much. Grissom knows that. I'm not upset with him."  
  
Nick gave her a questioning look. "Really?"  
  
"Really. I mean it. It's good that he's backed off. It'll help," she offered, hoping Nick would buy the partial truth. "I don't want anyone, anyone giving him any grief. 'Cause if you thought I was going to get pissed off when I found out about the suicide, then you can't imagine how I'm going to be if I hear that anyone said anything to him. I'm serious."  
  
"Okay. If you say so."  
  
"I do. It's all right, Nick. Trust me," she said, smiling when he nodded. Looking out the window, she did a quick double-take. "Hey, we passed the diner."  
  
"Miles ago. Great powers of observation there, Sar. Guess that's why you're our top CSI," he said with an evil smile. "After all you put me through this morning, you're treating me to a real breakfast. I want steak."  
  
"Fair enough. I can probably get a free one. Perk of being a hero," she laughed wryly. 


	28. Ch 28

Chapter 28  
  
After breakfast and their shopping expedition, Nick dropped Sara off back at the lab. Staring at her dashboard clock, she found herself surprised that it had only been slightly more than a week since the accident occurred. This time on the previous Monday she had been utterly unaware that her life was about to be completely turned around.  
  
Refusing to dwell on that subject, she mentally reviewed the seminar she had attended last week. She didn't know when she'd be able to return to the field, but she wanted to stay up-to-date until then. Her silent summation was disrupted as she neared the turn-off for her apartment.  
  
The site of the accident had been turned into a shrine. Flowers, gifts and crosses were piled in the median strip and messages had been scrawled on the pavement. Further up the road, Sara could still see the traces the burning wreckage had left on the blacktop.  
  
Closing her eyes, she gripped the steering wheel as she started to tremble. After a few moments, she was able to get her breathing under control. Though still jumpy, Sara was glad at how subtle the reaction had been.  
  
A bitter laugh escaped from her clenched teeth. She decided that being happy about having a mild panic attack probably wasn't a good indicator of the state of either your life or your mental health. Still, she hoped Philip would agree that it was encouraging that she hadn't had a full flashback.  
  
She pulled back into traffic and headed home slowly. Deciding it would be best not to tempt fate at this point, she mentally mapped out alternate routes between the lab and her apartment during the brief journey. Circling the complex twice, she searched for any signs of reporters. Convinced it was safe, Sara finally pulled into the parking lot. She couldn't face the press now; she was still too tense.  
  
Grabbing her purchases and the bag of accumulated laundry, she warily crossed the parking lot, angry that she felt the need to be on the look-out for hidden camera crews. The greetings from neighbors she wouldn't have recognized on the street was disconcerting enough. Finally reaching her apartment, she set her packages down on the breakfast bar.  
  
Heading into the bedroom closet, she found an empty box and placed the various awards and plaques into it before setting it in a back corner. While those citations would serve as a career-maker, Sara didn't care if she never saw them again. She wouldn't have accepted them if it wasn't for the fact that refusing would have made the lab look bad.  
  
Going back into the living room, she started looking around. She had only been gone a week, but something seemed off to her. She turned her attention to her home.  
  
'Dwelling,' she corrected herself. 'Home' implied more than a place where one slept and showered.  
  
As she scanned the small rooms, she realized she hadn't given much thought to the place since the case involving the shut-in, Donna Marks. Seeing the frightening similarities between their lives, Sara had vowed to change her life by actually getting one.  
  
But, despite her best intentions, she found that was harder to do than she had imagined. A life wasn't something you just picked up. It had to be made, one piece at a time. Sara had learned she wasn't completely sure how to do it.  
  
The outward trappings had been easy enough: she had gotten rid of the carryout menus and catalogs. She spent more time with her friends, but still most of the people she knew could be traced back to work somehow. Then, after the disaster that was Hank, she had started to slip back into her old habits. Their familiarity offered a form of security that she needed at that time.  
  
Switching into investigative mood, Sara imagined how her apartment would appear to an outsider. The slightly desiccated plants and thin coating of dust showed the place had been empty for a short time. Aside from the need for a light dusting, the place was clean, if not overly neat. The clutter by the computer attested to that fact.  
  
The bookcase held a small collection of books and journals, nearly all dealing with forensics. The police scanner, while quiet now, fit in well with the printed materials. A few framed photographs, mainly from her childhood, were scattered around the apartment, along with a couple of paintings.  
  
A flashing light on the answering machine showed another 36 new messages, but Sara recognized that as an anomaly caused by her sudden fame. Normally, it would be empty. The stack of CDs merely showed she had eclectic tastes in music.  
  
Overall, it was the abode of a workaholic. There was nothing to show that she had any life or interests outside of her work. Very little in the apartment gave any insight into her personality. Giving herself a mental kick, she hoped that was because she had never placed the time or effort into it and not that she lacked a personality to display.  
  
Letting out a weary breath, Sara vowed, again, to make amends. She couldn't keep on living this way. Placing the plants in the sink to soak, she made her first foray into her new life and started working on her initial bonsai. Eventually satisfied with her pruning and finally getting the plant to sit in its shallow pot, she moved on to quickly clean the apartment.  
  
Yawning deeply, she decided to rest before going through her mail and messages. Even if she managed to sleep for more than a few hours, she would still have a block of time to kill before she could go into work. Free time was a new experience for her; she wasn't sure how to spend it without turning to work. There were only so many chores to keep her busy. She debated what other hobbies to pick up as she drifted to sleep, glad that at least she was making progress.  
  
Any hopes of rest were shattered by the nightmare. Today, she barely got two hours of sleep before waking up in a cold sweat. Swearing loudly, she staggered into the shower, bumping into the doorframe in exhaustion. Normally, she didn't need much sleep, and could go days on much less than she had been getting this past week. Now, she found she was tired all the time, but attributed it to the stress.  
  
Singing softly, she tried working the tension out, letting the hot water massage her muscles. After a few minutes, she reached for the soap, but kept dropping it. She couldn't stop the mild trembling in her hands. Swearing again, she kicked the soap in disgust, sending it rocketing around the enclosure.  
  
Closing her eyes, Sara tried to regain some of the calm she had found. Relying on habit, she reached for the washcloth and started wiping at her face, but opened her eyes at the harsh feel of the material. Letting out another loud curse, she dropped the washcloth and fought to keep her stomach calm.  
  
The material was still held traces of dried blood from her last shower, immediately after the accident. She had left so quickly, she hadn't bothered to drop into the laundry hamper. The still-warm blood had soaked through her clothes and dried in a brownish stain on her skin.  
  
Trying to swear and sing at the same time, she frantically tried to push the images out of her mind. She didn't need another damned flashback. How the hell could she visit the accident scene and not have one, but not stand her own shower, she wondered bitterly.  
  
Sara started cupping water in her hands and repeatedly washing her face with her bare hands, her tears blending into the water.  
  
~~~~~  
  
When she eventually exited the bathroom, her breath still ragged, Sara made her way into the kitchen. She was still edgy from the combination of the nightmare and flashback. Opening the refrigerator door, her stomach renewed its objections. The smell indicated something in there should have been thrown away in the past week. At least a trip to the grocery store and cleaning out the appliance would give her something to do later, she thought darkly.  
  
Looking through the cabinets for something to eat, she paused when she found the forgotten bottle. Hank had liked to drink an occasional rum and coke. The nearly full fifth of liquor had sat ignored since their breakup.  
  
Yawning deeply, she knew she needed to rest. Taking the bottle with her, she walked over to grab the container of sleeping pills Philip had given her. Falling asleep wasn't the trouble, though; it was keeping the nightmares away. Those pills wouldn't do anything to prevent them. Alcohol, on the other hand, was another story.  
  
Sara had never been a very heavy drinker, even in college, but as far as she could remember she had never been plagued by nightmares after falling asleep drunk. While hardly scientific, the correlation wasn't lost on her.  
  
Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, she walked over to the sink and filled it part way with water. Opening the bottle of rum, she eyed it carefully before pouring. Taking the glass of water, she watched as the alcohol drained down the sink.  
  
That idea had been so tempting it shook Sara to her core. She had never understood before what could drive someone to purposefully slowly poison themselves to the point of destruction. Now she did. It frightened her that she was tempted to actually give in. She might be able to fight off the urge to drink now, but she knew it was going to get harder to resist turning to something if she wasn't able to relieve the stress soon.  
  
Getting rid of the temptation was her safest option.  
  
She wasn't going to let this destroy the rest of her life. She had too much to look forward to. Her thoughts turned automatically to Grissom and she smiled sadly. Hopefully, he'd be a part of her future. She'd hurt him enough already; if she could help it, she wouldn't do anything else that would cause him pain, including self-destructive behavior.  
  
The truth was she was afraid of losing him. In the back of her mind, Sara wondered how long it would take before he pulled away. Part of it was past experience. He had a habit of backing away when things became intense, even though he had been steadfast through this.  
  
Mostly, though, she was still afraid of how he would react when he found out what had happened on the bus. Would he still care once he knew she had left Hunter behind? Swearing again, she tried to push that thought away. Logically, she knew there was nothing else she could have done for the boy, but the thought of how her friends would react still bothered her.  
  
She knew it was an irrational fear. Nick and Philip both knew the truth about what had happened, and neither had treated her as a pariah. But Nick was loyal to a fault and Kane was trained to be impartial. Would Grissom react the same way?  
  
As much as it pained her to admit it, Sara knew she didn't completely trust him. He had been too inconsistent in his treatment of her since she had moved to Las Vegas. While she hoped he would still be there when she resolved her troubles, she also had her doubts about him. This was one time she really wanted to be wrong.  
  
Continuing her quest for food, she settled on a bag of microwave popcorn. It was hardly nutritious, but she didn't think her stomach would stand another trip to the fridge right now and she was in no condition to go to the store. She wasn't especially hungry - another strange fact she attributed to the stress - but she knew she had to eat. She had already lost a few pounds. One disadvantage of her thin frame was even the small change in mass was noticeable.  
  
It was bad enough that her parents, who had never pushed her to eat as a child, had commented on her lack of appetite. It probably was amusing to an outsider seeing the graying couple trying to entice their grown daughter into eating a little more.  
  
Sara smiled at the memory. Her parents had been so supportive of her over the weekend. They had kept her out of the city most of the time, not even giving her a chance to return her phone messages. Instead, they had grabbed some food and heading out into the desert. As odd as it seemed, she found the desolate beauty just what she needed. Without the constant fear of running into some journalist or well-meaning stranger, Sara had finally been able to relax some. While she had constant nightmares, she had been able to catch several catnaps while her parents drove across the desert.  
  
Feeling guilty, Sara made a note to see when she could take a vacation to visit her family. She had let their past differences blind her to the fact they were very loving. She should have called them at the beginning for help. Well, if there was any good side to this mess, she decided, it was that she had become even closer to them.  
  
Deciding to wind down some before attempting to sleep again, Sara wandered over to her couch and turned on the television. Flipping through the channels, she froze when a familiar young face was plastered on the afternoon news.  
  
"... reports indicate a mechanical troubles may have been responsible for last Monday's school bus accident which killed 10 people. In related news, all the injured children, except 8-year-old Teresa Hernandez, have been released from the hospital. Doctors confirmed that Hernandez has been downgraded to critical condition and has been moved to an intensive care unit." 


	29. Ch 29

Chapter 29  
  
Heading down the hallway to the morgue, Al Robbins was surprised to find Sara standing in the hallway. She gave him a hesitant smile as he approached.  
  
"Sara, are you all right?" the coroner asked in a quiet voice.  
  
She shrugged in a non-committal manner, knowing he wouldn't believe her if she said everything was fine. It was too apparent even to a casual observer that she wasn't. She had been frazzled earlier in the day and her day had continued to get worse. She never had the chance to try to get more sleep.  
  
After hearing about Teresa's condition and recalling the stack of unanswered messages from her parents, she had headed straight to the hospital. The shock of seeing the little girl in the ICU haunted her. Even though she hadn't been allowed in to visit, Sara had watched from the observation window until it was time to head to work.  
  
The Hernandezes' shocked expressions were her first clue that she should have at least tried to cover her appearance with some make-up, but it wasn't until an intern came over and offered to give her a check up that she realized how disheveled she must have seemed. Later, heading into the bathroom, she understood their concern. Between the lack of sleep, lack of make-up and stress, she looked horrible. For the first time, she noticed how pale and gaunt she had become.  
  
"Just didn't sleep well, Doc. I was wondering if you could walk me through something."  
  
"Sure, come on in," he said, indicating the changing area next to the morgue. Joining him, Sara was shocked when he opened his medical bag and started pulling out equipment. "Have a seat and take off your jacket."  
  
"Doc ..."  
  
"I don't normally charge for answers, but you're going to sit through an exam today."  
  
Smiling at his paternal tone, she followed his directions as he took her blood pressure and checked her pulse and respiration.  
  
"Going out on a limb here, but I think you're going to say I'm suffering from an acute case of stress."  
  
"You are, Sara. It's not a laughing matter," he said firmly, but kindly. "Your blood pressure is too high. It's not bad enough that I'd recommend medication, yet, but it's not good."  
  
"I know. Sorry. But I could have told you that I was stressed. Believe me, I know," she said lightly, but the coroner remained concerned.  
  
"Are you taking anything?"  
  
"Right now, just a sleeping aid."  
  
"It's not working, I take it."  
  
"No, going to sleep isn't the trouble. It's staying asleep that's the hard part. Nightmares. Real bitch of one yesterday," she said, trying to reassure the doctor.  
  
"Has Philip mentioned taking some sort of anti-anxiety medication?"  
  
Sara regarded the doctor cautiously. She didn't really want to make a habit of talking about her mental condition, but knew from his questions that Robbins was probably already aware of, or had suspicions about her troubles.  
  
"Yeah, but we both agreed that it should be a last resort. If I have to, I will, but I really want to try this without drugs first. Too easy to rely on them," she said softly. If alcohol had been a temptation, she didn't want to consider what tranquilizers would be like.  
  
"You may want to try yoga or meditation. Even a regular exercise routine. It can help relieve the stress naturally. How's your appetite?"  
  
"Nonexistent. I know, I've lost weight. I'm trying," she said, reaching over to pull some canned supplemental nutritional drinks from her bag. "I picked these up on the way over. I can make myself drink these things easier than I can force myself to eat."  
  
"All right. That'll do for now. But I want to see you again next week. If there's no improvement, I'll have to talk to Kane. Now, what did you want to know?"  
  
Sara started to object, but realized Robbins was just trying to help and that he was right. Besides, she needed answers. "What can you tell me about endocarditis?"  
  
He gave Sara a confused look. While he had been uncertain why she wanted to talk, that wasn't something he would have guessed.  
  
"Inflammation of the endocardium, the inner lining of the heart. Usually affects the valves. Do you know the underlying cause?"  
  
"Yeah. A staph infection went systemic."  
  
"Acute bacterial endocarditis. Very nasty, but it is usually treatable. Do you know if the person has any other conditions which could cause complications? Heart defects, anything like that?"  
  
"I don't think there's any defects. The doctors aren't having much luck treating the infection, though. And she lost a lot of blood."  
  
Realization hit the coroner when he recognized the look of sadness on Sara's face. The news reports had only said her condition had worsened. "Is this the little girl from the bus?"  
  
"Yeah. One of her cuts got infected. Spread pretty quickly."  
  
"I'm not really surprised. Picking up infections in a hospital is always a risk. Most people have several strains of staphylococcus present on their skins and in their mouths. Accidental cross-contamination can easily occur, even in a hospital. For a healthy person, the worst that usually happens is a boil. But if the bacteria get into the blood stream, like through a serious cut, it can spread rapidly. Unfortunately, hospitals are also home to antibiotic-resistant strains of Staphylococcus aureus. Do you know what they are using to treat her?"  
  
"Uh, no actually, I didn't ask. Her parents said they were increasing the dosage of her current antibiotic before they try anything stronger."  
  
"Hopefully, that'll work. The stronger antibiotics have some very serious side-effects. The normal treatment calls for intravenous treatment for up to six weeks. It all depends on how well the body fights off the underlying infection."  
  
"She's in intensive care, already. Her temperature spiked rapidly. When they ran some tests, they realized she had developed the endocarditis."  
  
"Well, at least they caught it early. That increases her chances of recovery. Still, it's a serious condition, Sara."  
  
"What are her chances?"  
  
"Survival rates run up to 80 percent. It all depends on what complications, if any, she develops. And there are a lot of potential complications. The infection can damage the heart; the valves are especially vulnerable. A surgical replacement is often necessary. Abscesses can develop. Congestive heart failure can also happen. The infection can spread to other organs. Stroke, aneurysms, arrhythmia, meningitis or infectious arthritis are all possible.  
  
"The most serious complication, though, come from vegetations which grow in the heart. These are clumps of bacteria, platelets and immune cells. If they break free, they can enter the blood stream. If they are large enough, they'll block an artery, much like a blood clot. That can cause extensive tissue damage, if not death."  
  
"Damn," Sara swore softly, trying not to cry. "She's only eight, Doc. She already had to go through the wreck. Sometimes, life really sucks, you know?"  
  
"She has a good chance. They caught it early. Don't write her off. Kids can be amazingly resilient. Come on," he said, leading her into the morgue. "I want to get your weight. I'm serious, Sara. See me next week. I'll let Philip know I'm monitoring your physical condition."  
  
"Sure, Doc," she said without conviction.  
  
Leaving the morgue, Sara headed to the stairs with her head down. She just wanted to get to her temporary office without any interruptions. It was taking all of her self-control not to cry. She couldn't stop thinking that she had promised to visit Teresa and now there was a very real chance the girl would die before she could fulfill that obligation.  
  
Biting her lip, she tried not to rationalize her avoiding the hospital: as hectic as her week had been, she could have made the time for at least a short second visit. The truth was she had been hurt that the family had talked to the reporter. It was unfair: the parents hadn't talked about what had happened on the bus and Teresa was too young to understand that it wasn't a topic to be discussed lightly. Hell, the reporter probably hadn't even explained that she would be writing about it.  
  
"Sorry," she muttered when she bumped into someone coming around the corner, but froze when a hand grabbed her arm.  
  
"God, Sara. What happened?"  
  
"Nothing, Grissom. Please," she said, trying to pull her arm free from his grasp.  
  
When he realized what she was doing, he pulled back his hand as if he'd been burnt. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking," he said in despair. "I'm so sorry."  
  
The pain in his voice was too real to ignore. Hearing someone approaching down the hallway, she grabbed his hand and pulled him under the staircase. Letting go of his hand, she backed up slightly, but gave him a reassuring smile. He took the hint to keep his distance.  
  
"It's okay. I'm sorry, I lied. It's not 'nothing'. It's, I, damn. I'm a mess right now, Grissom. Don't expect a coherent conversation. I know I must look like shit. Sorry if I scared you. Just had a hell of a day and I didn't sleep well."  
  
"The bruises?"  
  
"What bruises?" He pointed to the mark showing on her arm. "Oh, I hit the doorframe this afternoon. Must of happened then." Sara noticed the explanation didn't seem to relieve his concerns. Wiping at the tears that were forming despite her best efforts, she gave him a shaky laugh. "God. Your timing really sucks, you know that? You really caught me at a bad time. I wish you didn't see me like this. I'm sure it looks worse than it really is."  
  
He tried to return her smile, but doubted if it seemed real. She was right: she did look like hell. More than anything, he found he wanted to hold her, as much for his own comfort as her own. "Can I do anything?"  
  
"Not really. Thanks for caring."  
  
"I meant what I said, Sara. I'm not going to turn away. I'll give you all the space you need, but I'll do anything I can for you. I mean it," he said, resisting the urge to move closer. He didn't want to startle her; it was clear that she was extremely tense.  
  
"Thanks. But, I, it's best for you to stay away."  
  
Grissom closed his eyes briefly, before nodding. "If you say so. I just wish there was something I could do to help."  
  
"I know. But you said it yourself: sometimes the hardest thing to do, is to do nothing at all."  
  
He gave her a quizzical look. "I said that? When?"  
  
"During the Strip Strangler case. The decoy operation that was a bust? You told me that as we left the supermarket."  
  
Grissom gave her another confused look. "God, I really am starting to think you tape everything I say. You know, just because I say something, it doesn't make it true."  
  
"Confucius?"  
  
"Buddha, actually. Well, it's a paraphrase, but ...," he paused, realizing he was starting to babble. "You want to take the night off? Get some rest?"  
  
"No. I don't think I could sleep right now. And I have a meeting with Philip in the morning. Might as well just stay here."  
  
"Your choice," he said, pursing his lips, before continuing in a low tone. "You know how to reach me, Sara. Any time, for anything. Just let me know. Okay?"  
  
"I promise, Grissom. I'll let you know when I'm ready."  
  
"Okay."  
  
She started to pass him to head up the stairs, but he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall. Seeing his obvious pain, she surprised both of them by giving him a quick kiss. Before he could react, she pulled back, blushing and raced up the stairs. 


	30. Ch 30

Chapter 30  
  
At the sound of Sara's laughter, Grissom paused in his review of the photographs spread before him. Peering discreetly over the top of his glasses, he scanned the hallway outside the Layout Room, spotting her talking to David. Presumably, they were on their way to breakfast. Again.  
  
He closed his eyes as conflicting emotions of mild jealousy and guilt washed over him. He knew he should be happy for her. She was in a good mood today, and those had been so rare since the accident. She seemed to be making progress and Sara's recovery was the most important thing. It shouldn't matter how she accomplished it, but it disturbed Grissom to find he did care how it was done.  
  
When he heard their footsteps approaching, he hastily darted his eyes back to the photographs. The last thing he needed was for Sara to think he had been spying on her. His head automatically turned, though, when she paused at the doorway. Their eyes met briefly, then she gave him a smile and a wave before continuing down the hallway.  
  
Letting out a wistful sigh, Grissom smiled weakly at the friendly greeting. He started to run his hands through his hair, but paused nervously. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Catherine watching him from across the table. From her baffled expression, he gathered that she had caught the entire silent exchange.  
  
Quickly collecting his files, he headed to his office, wincing when he heard another chortle. Grissom never realized how easily David could make Sara laugh. He wished he knew how the coroner's assistant did it. Still, if talking to David helped Sara, then he wouldn't complain.  
  
He couldn't, considering he feared he might have set back her recovery through his own folly.  
  
Closing his office door, he crossed the room and sank into his chair. Rubbing his temples, he once again wondered how he had managed to screw this up so badly, so quickly.  
  
It had been 10 days since he had bumped into Sara outside the morgue and been frightened by her condition. Ten days since her unexpected kiss had sent his heart and imagination racing.  
  
But it had only been eight days since he had potentially destroyed any chance he had with her. It only took one mistake, but Grissom recognized it had been a serious one.  
  
Despite her assurances, Sara's haggard appearance that night had shocked him. Grissom had thought things would have started to improve for her, but her condition had seemed to have worsened. He found himself worrying about her through the rest of shift. As much as he wanted to check on her, he forced himself to keep his distance.  
  
When he saw her message the next evening that she would be taking sick leave, part of him was glad. She had obviously been tense the night before and he thought the rest would do Sara good. His panic rose when he read the next message. It was from Philip Kane, stating that she wasn't to return to work for a minimum of three days.  
  
Grissom had spent the night worrying about how serious her condition really was, if Kane had felt the need to order her to rest. He wanted to call, but doubted she would appreciate the gesture. Sara could easily contact him if she needed - or even wanted - to. Still, he couldn't stop worrying.  
  
Eventually, he found himself at her apartment door on Wednesday morning. He just needed to see her, then he'd leave. As he suspected, Sara wasn't pleasantly surprised to see him when she finally opened the door. His apology and explanation that was worried had done little to modify her mood.  
  
While she did look better, he didn't take very much comfort in that. About the only way her earlier appearance could have been worse was for her to have been on one of the morgue's slabs. Still, it had been enough to reassure him and he had been prepared to accept her statement that she was fine.  
  
The empty bottle of alcohol and the open pill container changed everything.  
  
From his position in the doorway, he could just make them out on the breakfast bar. As a cold sweat broke out, he automatically pushed past Sara and walked into her apartment. Grabbing the pill container, he recognized the prescription as a sedative. His stomach churned when he saw it was also empty.  
  
The nature of his fear changed when he saw Sara's fierce expression. Grissom had thought he had seen her mad before, but nothing had prepared him for that exchange that followed.  
  
Grabbing the pill bottle from his hand, she pointed out that it was only a two-day supply, filled the day before. She had then shown him the second dosage still in her hand, explaining Kane insisted she had to rest, even if had to be drug-induced. Stomping across the room in disgust, she then had dug out the bottle of sleeping pills from her bag, thrown them at his chest and dared him to open the bottle and count them. When he had shaken his head and moved to apologize, she crossed the room again to stand directly in his face. Exhaling harshly, she asked if he could smell alcohol, explaining she had dumped the rum earlier so it wouldn't be a temptation.  
  
Then she got angry.  
  
In the past he had presumed that someone who repeatedly swore either lacked intelligence or had a stunted vocabulary. Sara's colorful combinations of damnations permanently shattered that illusion.  
  
In no uncertain terms, she had let him know what she felt about his not respecting her wishes to keep his distance and of forcing his way into her apartment. She was livid that he thought she would try to kill herself, that he thought so little of her, that he apparently had no trust in her.  
  
Grissom had known he was wrong and he had tried repeatedly to apologize. But every time he tried to speak, it only made Sara angrier. Half-fearing he was going to trigger a stroke, he left her in the middle of a loud curse, backing out of her apartment, his hands held out in surrender.  
  
After taking a few minutes to calm his nerves, he had headed home, wondering if Sara would ever speak to him again. Or if he even wanted to hear what she would say if she did decide to talk to him. He had had no idea how to apologize for his error.  
  
He hadn't realized the full extent of his mistake until the next shift. Heading into the locker room, he had overheard Nick explaining his earlier conversation with Sara to Warrick. He had explained that their concerns were terrifying Sara. Grissom had closed his eyes sadly at that piece of information, but it at least helped to explain why she needed space.  
  
When Sara had returned to work on Friday night, she seemed much better. Her complexion wasn't as pale and there was less tension in her posture. He had given her a hopeful smile when she passed him in the break room, but she had ignored him. Grissom was certain Nick and Warrick had actually smirked at her action, but found he really didn't care.  
  
He saw her twice more in the hallways that evening, but her reactions were equally distant. It was surprising when she had shown up at his office door at the end of shift. Instead on being angry, she seemed deeply hurt.  
  
"I probably should apologize for yelling at you, but, dammit, it's your fault. I warned you to stay away." She had started to leave, but paused briefly. "Do you have any idea how much I hated myself after you left? I meant what I said, Grissom. It kills me when I do that do you, but I can't control it."  
  
If she had heard his apology, she didn't stop to acknowledge it.  
  
Despite his fears and her damnations, Sara didn't appear to hate him. She had even deliberately sat next to him when she had joined the team for a group breakfast. While she didn't speak to him, she did pointedly stare down Nick when he had flashed Grissom an angry look. The exchange had been confusing, but it had also given him hope that at the very least he had been forgiven.  
  
He had grudgingly admitted that he wouldn't blame her if she didn't, but one snippet from her earlier angry discourse made him somewhat optimistic: 'When are you going to learn to trust me?' It could be interpreted to mean she was willing to give him another chance.  
  
Now, he was utterly confused. Obviously, he had overreacted in her apartment, but that hadn't been intentional. It was an action borne from fear. And he probably shouldn't have gone there in the first place. Still, he didn't think he was entirely to blame. Sara had said she wanted space, but she was the one who had kissed him. Wasn't it easy to confuse that for a sign he could get closer?  
  
Letting out a sigh, he returned to rubbing his temples. Sara was direct. She had said she would tell him when he could get closer. When the permission came, it would be verbal, not hidden in a kiss.  
  
Unfortunately. That kiss, while brief, had held the promise of so much more, he recalled wistfully.  
  
"Is there any special reason why you keep getting that goofy grin on your face?"  
  
Warily, he looked up to watch Catherine leaning against the doorframe. He didn't know why he was surprised that she'd walk into his closed office. She certainly had no objections to entering his home uninvited. She may be the only person on the team currently talking to him outside of necessity, but he really wasn't in the mood for company.  
  
"What?"  
  
Raising a challenging eyebrow at his harsh tone, Catherine closed the door and walked over to his desk.  
  
"For the past week, actually longer, you'll get this look on your face, like you're remembering something, and then you'll get this great, big goofy grin."  
  
"I do not get goofy grins."  
  
Catherine smirked. Despite his blunt attempt at a rebuttal, his blush gave him away. She watched him carefully. Something was up, but she was damned if she could figure out what was going on. Nick had explained that Sara had said she wasn't upset with Grissom and wanted them to back off. While the guys seemed hesitant, she was ready to take the younger woman at her word on both counts.  
  
Personally, she was happy Sara had started to chafe under their constant care. As far as she was concerned, Catherine thought it was the best indication that she was recovering. Sara was too independent to tolerate coddling. It was one thing to offer support, but she had to get through this herself. The more Sara exerted her own will, the happier Catherine was.  
  
As far as Grissom went, they obviously had reached some sort of understanding. She doubted she wanted to know what it was. Their dynamic was too bizarre under normal circumstances. But Grissom had just left the middle of an examination without a word. Something had gone wrong for him to get that distracted. Recalling a comment about fool and angels - and knowing she was no angel - she pressed ahead.  
  
"I'll take a photo next time."  
  
"Fine. Is there any special reason you're here?"  
  
"Nah, not really. Just wondering if I could have those files back. One of us should probably finish this case."  
  
"What? Oh, sorry," he muttered, pushing the files across the desk. He glared when she didn't move to leave. "Don't you have a kid to get to?"  
  
"At her grandma's. Nice of you to suddenly start caring."  
  
He didn't answer, but turned away quickly. Catherine thought she had briefly caught a look of raw pain in his eyes.  
  
"Gil, are you okay? Getting a migraine?"  
  
"No. I'm fine," he said pointedly.  
  
"Yeah. And I'm the Easter Bunny."  
  
"Then maybe you should just start hopping down the bunny trail," he exclaimed, pointing to his office door.  
  
Catherine raised her eyebrows again. Something was definitely wrong, she decided. "Sorry, no can do. That's Peter Cottontail's gig. Copyright issues, whole nine yards."  
  
He grunted, closing his eyes and rubbing his hands across his face when he heard his friend let out a long sigh.  
  
"How did you screw up this time?"  
  
He opened one eye and peaked through his fingers, but didn't respond.  
  
"Do you want to fix it?" Catherine waited until it was clear he wouldn't answer. "Do you even have any idea how to fix it?"  
  
"No."  
  
She walked over and pulled him out of his chair. His tone had been too dejected to ignore. "Come on. Let's eat. You can tell me everything that happened while you cook." 


	31. Ch 31

Chapter 31  
  
Sipping her orange juice, Catherine waited impatiently for Grissom to explain what had happened. She was tired and just wanted to go home. The entire team was working extra overtime to cover for Sara and it was taking its toll. Things were starting to get stressful, and not just from lack of sleep.  
  
The guys had reacted to Sara's request to cut Grissom some slack by completely cutting off all unnecessary contact with him. It hadn't affected the team's work dynamic, yet, but it didn't make things any easier. It was the main reason she had decided to talk to him.  
  
He was a dear friend who had helped her through some pretty dark days, but he was also an adult. Eventually, he had to learn how to fix these things himself. She had no intention of spending the rest of her life playing counselor and patching up his mistakes. She would set him on the right path this time, but first she needed him to talk to her.  
  
Setting her glass down, she started to drum her nails loudly against the counter. When that failed to get a reaction, she started to fiddle with the silverware. Finally, she just gave him an obscene gesture. For his part, Grissom focused on flipping sausage patties, acting as if he was handling sizzling little bombs.  
  
There was going to be an explosion if he didn't start soon, Catherine promised herself. What was going on? He had become so distracted by watching Sara and David going to breakfast. She paused. It couldn't be that simple, she wondered.  
  
"You know, they just go to breakfast and talk. There's nothing going on between them."  
  
That earned a brief nod. Catherine rolled her eyes, not caring the gesture was wasted on someone not paying attention to her.  
  
"Sara actually set him up with a nurse she made friends with from all the time she spends at the hospital."  
  
"Hospital?"  
  
She blinked and pulled back in surprise. Grissom had switched from emotionally distant to showing an intense fear in a heartbeat.  
  
"She's been visiting that little girl almost every day. The one from the accident? Gotten pretty tight with her. Didn't you know?"  
  
"No," he whispered.  
  
Catherine let out a frustrated sigh. How could he know? He had shut Sara out and the guys were avoiding him. She wondered sadly what the last conversation he had had that couldn't be traced back to work. Still, he was the one who had initiated it.  
  
"Well, maybe if you came out of your damn shell on occasion, you would! She's worried to death about the kid. They still don't know if she's going to recover."  
  
Grissom silently passed her a plate of food, but remained silent. The only sign he made that he had heard her was a nervous tic.  
  
"Look, Gil, you're my friend. I don't mind offering advice. But I'm not your personal Relationship Fairy Godmother. I can't wave a wand and magically fix things! Believe me, I'd use it on my own life if I could. You have to try. You have to be willing to open up. I'm sure if you offered, Sara would gladly talk to you."  
  
"Catherine, I really hope you don't misinterpret your cases that badly."  
  
The forkful of eggs paused halfway to her mouth. She would have taken offense at that comment if it hadn't been for his tone. Something had hurt him deeply.  
  
"It's usually easiest to just start at the beginning," she offered gently.  
  
"Darkness and void?"  
  
"Smart ass," she snapped.  
  
"Ass, I'll agree with that. Smart? Not likely," he sighed, finally turning to fully look at her. "Catherine, I don't know where the beginning of ... this ... is. All I know about ... this ... is that it's a mess. And I keep making it worse."  
  
"Let's start with something a little easier then. How were things between you two before the accident?"  
  
"Strained," he said, giving her a look that the answer should have been obvious. "I know. It's my fault. I pushed her away. I did explain my reasons to Sara and apologized to her. She was understanding, probably more so than I deserved."  
  
"When?"  
  
"The day we went for a drive." A wistful smile formed briefly as he recalled the way she felt when he held her at the lake, an expression not lost on Catherine.  
  
"Okay, more details," she demanded, pushing aside her plate.  
  
As he recounted that evening, he tried to ignore her expression, but her jaw continued to drop. It started to remind him of a snake. He missed it, though, when she finally gave him a look indicating he was an idiot when he got to the part about the hug.  
  
"Good God, Gil!"  
  
"What?" Grissom asked in a near-panic. He thought that evening had been the best since the accident.  
  
"I warned you not to push! What were you thinking? Were you even thinking?" Catherine refrained from asking what he had been thinking with when she saw his confused look.  
  
"I didn't push! Did I?"  
  
"What do you call a romantic dinner at the lake, followed by a hug?"  
  
He blinked in surprise. "It wasn't romantic. I wasn't trying for romantic. It was private. She was stressed from all the public attention. I thought she'd like the privacy," he sputtered, before letting out a sigh. "I guess it could have seemed that way to her. Okay. But Catherine, you didn't see her that night. I wanted to take some of her pain away. The hug just happened. It really seemed to make her happy."  
  
"Gil, honey, ... okay, wait. We'll get back to that. What happened next?"  
  
Catherine's expression softened as he continued. It was obvious he was leaving out the more private details, but it was enough for her to understand. She sighed sadly. They really had misread this. He wasn't the bad guy in this situation, but had been willing to assume the role to help Sara.  
  
For once, Grissom had opened up, only to be turned away. Despite the obvious pain, he still wanted to help. This had to be tearing him up, she realized, but some of it was his own fault. He needed to learn a lesson from this. She hated to kick him while he was down, but it really would be for his own good. Or so she hoped.  
  
"What do I do? I don't think a plant can fix this," he said sadly.  
  
"Not likely," she snorted. "Sara told you exactly what to do. Listen to her. Do what she asked you to do in the first place. Leave her alone and wait."  
  
"For how long?"  
  
"Until she says it's okay or you get tired and give up."  
  
"I'm not giving up. But what if I screwed this up too badly? What if she doesn't forgive me? Then what?"  
  
She shrugged. "You move on or you let it consume you."  
  
"You're so sympathetic."  
  
"Realistic. You had years to act when it was safe. You didn't. I know this mess was a catalyst. I know you meant well. But, Gil, your timing sucks."  
  
"So I've heard."  
  
"Well, what did you expect? Look, let's be honest here. Sara is still a mess. She's getting better, yeah, but she's still not herself," she offered reassuringly. "Her whole life has been turned upside down. What she needs now, more than anything, is stability. Something constant, something she can count on. There's no reason for her to think you can be that thing. You have to know that."  
  
"I do, Catherine. I know I hurt her. I didn't mean to, but I know I did. I apologized. I thought she had accepted it."  
  
"And you think that fixes everything? Look, Sherman, unless you can get Mr. Peabody to fire up the Way-Back Machine, there's no way you can change what's happened. You spent too much time going back and forth with her. You can't expect her to trust you now. She never will, either, if you keep pulling these stunts," she paused, making sure she had his complete attention. "It's a simple request, Gil. Just give her space. If you can't do something that simple, that basic, do you really think she'll trust you with her feelings?"  
  
"Oh."  
  
She shook her head sadly. Thinking he had learned enough of a lesson for day, she switched gears.  
  
"Gil, she really is getting better. You can tell from watching her. It's just a matter of time. Be patient. I really don't think you've blown this."  
  
"Really?"  
  
She smiled at his hopeful expression. "As sure as I can be. Look, if she had completely given up on you, Sara would have flat-out told you. Right now, it looks like she's trying to decide if she can trust you again. Keep doing what she wants. Build her confidence in you back up."  
  
"I hope you're right."  
  
"I am. Probably," she said, waving off his startled expression. "Look, no more pushing. Sara's still trying to get her balance back. Even something as simple as a hug is too much. Think about what you said earlier, Gil: Sara kissed you, at work. Repeat that."  
  
"Sara kissed me at work? What ... oh. Oh."  
  
"Exactly. I'm sure it was nice, but does that sound like something Sara would normally do? She's a friendly enough person, but she sure as hell isn't little Miss Hugginkisses. At least not in public."  
  
"You're right. It's just so hard to stay away. I want to help."  
  
"Do you trust her?"  
  
"Of course," he said, a perplexed look on his face.  
  
"Then trust her. She said this is what she needs. If you really trust her, then you'll believe her. If giving her space helps, then you are helping her."  
  
Catherine yawned and stood up to leave. She gave her friend's shoulder a squeeze on the way out. "Look, she's willing to give you another chance. Don't blow it again. Just give her time or lose her completely. Those really are your only options." 


	32. Ch 32

Chapter 32  
  
The following Monday morning found Grissom in his office, penning another incorrect answer onto his crossword puzzle. Telling himself he was merely being observant and not eavesdropping, he tried to make out the conversation in the hallway. When he realized Nick was talking about a new video game and not Sara, he let out a frustrated sigh.  
  
He hated relying on second-hand conversations to monitor her condition, but it was nearly his only source of information left. Absent-mindedly, he filled in another clue and debated going to the break room to spend the rest of his break. Normally, it held the best chance of overhearing interesting tidbits.  
  
Rejecting that idea, Grissom turned his head, trying to relieve the tension in his neck. Going to the break room would only make the others tense. Most of the team had developed the habit of shutting up in his presence. Since his breakfast conversation with Catherine, they were no longer openly hostile, but they weren't openly friendly, either. That implied she hadn't told them the entire story.  
  
Under normal circumstances, he would have welcomed that act of discretion, but now he was left without an intelligence source. Sara had come into work earlier that evening looking especially sad and he wanted to know if she was all right. Catherine was processing the scene of a bungled kidnapping and he knew it would be hours before she would be free to go check.  
  
He turned his attention back to his puzzle and groaned. Not only had his last answer been wrong, it was misspelled and he didn't even get it inside the grid. His worries were starting to affect his concentration. The constant state of uncertainty was taking a toll on him.  
  
Glancing at his watch, he decided to get back to work. He wanted to leave as early as possible at the end of shift and visit the one person who had a chance of giving him the answers he needed.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Grissom approached the office hesitantly and knocked softly. "You have a minute?"  
  
"A few. What can I do for you, Gil?" Philip Kane asked kindly.  
  
"I honestly have no idea."  
  
"Come on in, have a seat. I assume you're here about Sara."  
  
Crossing to the indicated chair, he nodded. "I know doctor-patient confidentiality prevents you from discussing Sara's case specifically, but I was wondering if you could answer some questions in general about the condition."  
  
"Actually, Sara waived confidentiality. I'm free, to a point, to answer your questions about her condition. There are still some areas that she's not comfortable having discussed."  
  
"Sara did that?" he asked, raising a puzzled eyebrow.  
  
"Yes. I have the form she signed. You seem surprised."  
  
"I am," Grissom responded honestly. "She's usually a private person. I wouldn't have thought she'd make the details of her treatment available to others."  
  
"True. But the waiver is limited to discussing her condition with just you."  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
"She figured that eventually you'd come to me looking for answers and that you wouldn't be satisfied by hypotheticals. She's concerned about you and is willing to bypass her privacy to put you at ease."  
  
Kane watched the entomologist carefully. Sara's worries about her supervisor made him suspect her feelings went deeper than just friendship. When the brief smile on Grissom's face was replaced by a guilty look, Kane wondered if the feelings were mutual.  
  
"This doesn't involve me, Philip. I'm ...," he paused, refusing to say 'fine', "... all right. She shouldn't be worrying about me. Sara needs to worry about herself," he said, turning to look away in disgust. Grissom berated himself for feeling happy that Sara still cared enough to make that sacrifice, when she needed to be taking care of herself.  
  
"Of course, it involves you, Gil. You're someone ... close ... to Sara. You don't stop caring about others just because you're facing a problem." Kane paused when another guilty look crossed his face.  
  
"Is she going to be okay?" Grissom asked quickly, trying to change the subject.  
  
"In my professional opinion, I don't see this causing her a permanent disability."  
  
"But that's not the same as saying she's going to recover completely."  
  
"Not many completely recover. Don't panic, let me explain. This is where we switch to generalities. It's entirely possible for someone to recover from a traumatic event to the point where they can live a normal life, but most will still have some after-effects. Usually, they're mild, although some can be debilitating. I don't think Sara will have any serious problems, but it's too soon to say for certain."  
  
"I'm not sure I'm following you." Grissom leaned forward in his chair; this wasn't the type of answer he wanted.  
  
"Someone who was mauled may never be comfortable around animals again. Someone who nearly drowned may never go swimming again. Except for those things, their lives will be completely the same, but they will still carry those ... limitations ... with them."  
  
"That makes sense."  
  
"Now, for some people, the limitation is nothing more than a feeling of discomfort when exposed to a trigger - something that will remind them of the original trauma. For others, the exposure can cause a full-fledge panic attack."  
  
"And there's no way of knowing what will be a trigger for Sara until she is exposed to it. Or how severe her reaction will be," Grissom realized sadly.  
  
"For Sara, it could be that she may never be comfortable driving behind a school bus. She could have a panic attack if exposed to a dead child. There's no way of predicting," Kane said. "Or, she could be one of the ones who never develop a trigger."  
  
"Philip, Sara will be constantly exposed to potential triggers at the job. We see dead children too often. Crime scenes can be gruesome; blood everywhere. Then there are the actual accident scenes."  
  
"True."  
  
"What do we do?"  
  
Kane smiled at Grissom's use of the word 'we'. Despite being the object of Sara's temper, he was still willing to help.  
  
"I think it's safe to start easing Sara back into her old job. Let's keep her in the lab for now, but start with non-threatening tasks. If there's some paper trail to chase, a fiber that needs to be examined, offer it to her. If she can handle those without trouble, we'll start with other tasks around the lab. If there's no problems with those, then we'll see if she can handle being at actual scenes. It's entirely possible that nothing on the job will be a trigger, or severe enough that it can't be worked around."  
  
"Or any number of things could be triggers. Damn. Philip, she loves her job. If she can't return to it, I don't know what she'll do. It means too much to her. It would be devastating to her."  
  
"Not necessarily."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"Back to generalities, Gil. It's not uncommon when faced with a situation like this for someone to re-evaluate her life. People often find their priorities change." He turned around and picked up an old-fashioned alarm clock from the credenza. "Clocks are amazing things, really. We take them for granted. They are very complex machines, but must most people never really take the time to study one.  
  
"Now, sometimes, you drop one and the cover will come off. You get your first look at the insides. Sometimes a piece may come loose and you need to examine the whole clock in order to fit it back in. You examine things you never would have given another thought to before. Sometimes, you don't always put things back exactly as you found them. Occasionally, a piece gets left out. But it's still a clock when you're done."  
  
Grissom scowled. He didn't like this analogy. "And sometimes the clock is broken forever!"  
  
Kane chuckled. "It's rarely that bad, especially when there's a watchmaker supervising."  
  
He watched as Grissom rubbed his face nervously. Kane went over to his file cabinet and started searching for a file. "I'm optimistic about Sara, Gil. She is stable and the fact she was able to respond at the scene is a positive sign." He passed photographs from the accident to the entomologist. "Very few people - only about 20 percent of the population - are able to function positively in very stressful situations. Look at the crowd. Scores of people were there. Only a handful helped Sara. She was the only one to go on the bus."  
  
Grissom scanned the photos carefully. He had seen them in the newspapers and on television broadcasts, but he had never really examined them. Sara was confident, calm and clearly in charge at the scene. It was hard to reconcile the woman in the photos with her current state.  
  
"It hardly seems like this is the same person."  
  
"You're worried about her?"  
  
"Yes, I'm worried about her. This has been rough on her. I don't know what to do."  
  
"And that bothers you?" He held up his hands in apology. "Sorry. Occupational hazard. It's frustrating, though, wanting to help, but being kept away."  
  
"This isn't about me," Grissom repeated, trying not to sound defensive.  
  
"Of course. But it doesn't mean you weren't caught in the cross-fire. It's confusing, isn't it? What seems like it would be productive actually backfires. That keeping your distance can be a good thing when it feels like you should move closer."  
  
Grissom eyed the psychologist warily before letting out a resigned sigh. "I want to help. I do. But I need to know what to do. I'm not good at this type of thing."  
  
Kane smiled and pulled out a ledger. "I do have an appointment coming up, Gil, so we're going to have to end this. Are you free on Wednesday, around 10 a.m.? I have some free time then. I'll pencil you in for an hour. Just in case you have some more questions."  
  
He nodded reluctantly as he left the room. Pausing at the door, he turned to Kane. "Philip, tell her, well, tell her I'm still willing to help. She just has to ask."  
  
"That's good to know, Gil. I'll pass it along." 


	33. Ch 33

Chapter 33  
  
"A little light reading?"   
  
Sara darted her eyes up from the children's book as Catherine dragged herself across the office and flopped down into one of the chairs. Setting the embarrassing material down beside her lunch, she gave her colleague a small shrug.   
  
"Just making sure I know the next chapter. They had to put Teresa on chloramphenicol. White blood cell count is really screwed now. Have to wear masks, scrubs, whole deal to visit. Can't take the book in with me."   
  
"That's why you been so down? Worried about the kid?" Catherine asked kindly, watching as the younger woman nodded sadly. Catherine gave her a sympathetic smile; this had been a hell of a way for her to get in contact with her maternal instincts.   
  
It was no wonder Grissom had sent her up on a decoy mission to check on her. It was clear she was very sad. Add the fact that Sara was avoiding the break room before shift and eating lunch at her desk, and Catherine was certain she was purposefully trying to avoid the others.   
  
Physically, Sara appeared much as she did before the accident. Someone who didn't know her probably wouldn't notice anything was wrong. But there was a spark missing; she didn't have the energy or enthusiasm she'd had before.   
  
"Rough day?" Sara asked, changing the subject when she realized she was being inspected. The diversionary tactic earned her a smile and a snort.   
  
"Damn custody dispute! Mom and deadbeat boyfriend decided to stage a fake kidnapping attempt, trying to blame the father for it. Didn't give a shit that she scared her own kids half to death," Catherine fumed, letting out a hiss of air. "Some people should never be allowed to have children."   
  
As she stretched, a flash of color on the file cabinet caught her attention. While an occasional stranger still approached Sara in public, the flood of gifts had finally dried out. Those were fresh. Keeping her expression neutral, she vowed to personally kill Grissom if he was responsible. "Nice flowers."   
  
"Yeah. Jimmy again."   
  
"Jimmy? Grad school advisor Jimmy?" Catherine blinked in confusion, before taking on a teasing air. "You have a thing for older professors?"   
  
"No, Cath! It wasn't anything like that," Sara said, blushing slightly, but with a trace of a bashful smile.   
  
"Uh, huh. And Jimmy just sends flowers to all his old students."   
  
"Just the ones he feels guilty about," she said with a fleeting smile.   
  
Catherine blinked again. While she knew the real reason behind Sara's blush, she had continued to tease her, trying to lift her spirits. That answer had been unexpected.   
  
"Why would he feel guilty?"   
  
"That he didn't do more to keep me in grad school."   
  
Sara had given a diffident shrug as she answered. Catherine wasn't sure if it was because she didn't want to continue the conversation, but decided to cut straight to the chase.   
  
"Why did you quit?"   
  
"Got tired of the bureaucratic bullshit."   
  
"You entered law-enforcement to get away from bureaucracy. Okay." Catherine shot her a disbelieving look. "What's the real reason?"   
  
"Cath, it's complicated," Sara sighed. The blonde settled comfortably into her chair, the action not lost on her companion. "It really was bureaucratic. There was trouble with another student."   
  
"Let me guess: he wasn't as smart as you?"   
  
"Cath, the chalk was smarter than he was. He couldn't cut it. Blamed it on favoritism. I was the 'token' female, so he claimed all the professors took it easy on me."   
  
"He didn't." The older woman could only imagine how that would have set Sara off.   
  
"Oh, he did. Got real nasty about it. But he was a legacy; family gave a fortune to the school. When he saw he could get away with anything, it escalated. No, nothing like that," she said when a worried expression crossed Catherine's face. "We were doing a lot of theoretical modeling of materials. Mainly computer-based, but we did use a lot of chemicals to see if our materials reacted the way we predicted they would. He decided to try to sabotage one of my experiments."   
  
"Did you get hurt?"   
  
"No, but he nearly killed himself. Switched the bottles of chemicals and put hydrofluoric acid in a glass container. Idiot didn't even know that it can dissolve glass. He ended up in the hospital, had to call in haz-mat to clean out the building, and the school still tried to sweep it under the rug. That was about the time we had been helping out the L.A. police on that murder case. Made friends with one of their CSIs. Told me about an opening he had heard about in San Francisco. I took it. Jimmy always felt bad about the whole thing. He's brilliant, but he was terrified of the dean, so he never made waves."   
  
"Why does he think you'd come back now?"   
  
"He's the new dean. And he saw that first press conference where I said I might go back someday."   
  
"Well, I hope you set him straight that you weren't!" Catherine's tone had been light, but when Sara refused to meet her eyes, she felt a twinge of nervousness.   
  
"Was there something you needed?" Sara asked quickly, trying to sound friendly and not rude.   
  
"Yeah, actually there is," Catherine said after a momentary pause. She had never realized that Sara was considering leaving the department. Grissom hadn't mentioned it, so it was unlikely he had any idea. As much as he would want to know, she doubted he'd handle the knowledge well. He was already having a hard time giving Sara the distance she needed.   
  
"We're a little swamped and we were hoping you could give us a hand. Nick's running a burglary at a jewelry shop. Looks like one of the owners was cheating his partners, and 'stole' the merchandise to cover his tracks." She set a folder and a CD case on the end of the desk. "I've got copies of his business records from his laptop. When you finish lunch, could you check through them?"   
  
"Sure," she said happily, moving to clear away the remains of her meal. When she caught the maternal glare Catherine gave her, she pointedly took another bite from the sandwich. Her appetite still wasn't up to normal, but she found she could force herself to eat several small meals throughout the day and had managed to regain her lost weight. "Don't even think about telling me I can't have dessert later."   
  
Catherine smiled at the mock-threat. At least Sara seemed eager to help with this case. "That review have you bored yet?"   
  
"A little. Conclusions pretty much what I suspected they would be when I started," she said sadly.   
  
"Oh? You smarter than everybody else?" Catherine teased, trying to lighten the mood again.   
  
"Hardly. I just have no life."   
  
"What are you talking about?"   
  
"I have no life. I voluntarily worked more hours than anyone else. If I maxed out on overtime and it was an important case, I'd work at home. I didn't have proportionally more cases than anyone else, so I had more time to dedicate to each."   
  
"I doubt that's all of it," Catherine said.   
  
"Some of it's manpower; mistakes get made when everyone's working too long without a break. That's not likely to change. Some of it's bad habits. Cases, especially minor ones like smash-and-grabs, that aren't likely to get solved don't get much attention. That makes them pretty much guaranteed to be unsolvable."   
  
"I think you should give yourself more credit." Catherine said softly. The matter-of-fact manner Sara had used to describe herself had been a little unnerving. She used to joke about not having a life; now it came out as an indictment. "We're going to be glad to have you back."   
  
Sara ignored the last comment and opened the folder to review the case as her laptop booted up. Catherine watched carefully, making no move to leave. "This'll take some time, Cath. I'll page Nicky when I'm done."   
  
"Why aren't you coming back?"   
  
The brunette dropped her head while letting out a long sigh. "I don't know that I'm not coming back. I don't know what I'm doing."   
  
"Why don't you want to?"   
  
"I never said I didn't want to," Sara said, trying to ignore the other woman. She let out another sigh when she realized Catherine wasn't going to take the hint to leave. "I don't know that I can."   
  
"You still having flashbacks?"   
  
"No, none recently."   
  
"Then what's the problem?"   
  
"I …"   
  
Catherine could see the brunette was debating whether to carry on with the discussion. It would be better for her to talk, but she also knew that Sara was a private person and she was hardly her best friend. She decided to try reassurance.   
  
"Look, Sara, I'm not here to push. But whatever's bothering you, trust me, it's better to get it off of your chest."   
  
"Voice of experience?"   
  
Catherine ignored the sarcastic tone. "I could be a choir. Never look back, never regret. That's been my motto. It's worked well for me."   
  
"You've never really done anything wrong, then."   
  
Catherine stared at her in astonishment. "You shittin' me? You do know who you're talking to, don't ya? I've done more than my share of dumb things. Really dumb things. What's the worst you ever did? Forget to get a library book back in time?"   
  
"I think I killed a kid."   
  
"Sara, what the hell are you talking about?" she whispered after a long pause.   
  
She licked her lips nervously. Kane had assured her that her concerns about how her friends would react to this knowledge were misplaced, but until she actually saw the reactions, she'd never be certain. "The boy on the bus, Cath. I never checked for his pulse. I left him there."   
  
"That's what you're beating yourself over?"   
  
"You make it sound minor."   
  
"He was dead, Sara. The autopsy showed that."   
  
"I know."   
  
"Then why are doing this to yourself?"   
  
"You make it sound like I have a choice," Sara snorted. "I know that logically I didn't kill him. But emotionally, I think I left him behind to die. Cath, I … my whole memory of what happened in there is fuzzy. I'm not sure what happened. I … I'm afraid of what I'm going to do the next time. Not the next bus crash, but the next time I'm stressed like that. What I will forget to do; what I will screw up. I don't want to ruin a case, or put someone else in jeopardy."   
  
The older woman leaned back in the chair and let out a deep breath. This explained why Sara was such a mess; it probably was also part of the reason why she was so desperately concerned about Teresa's condition. She wondered sadly how long it took someone to rebuild their self-confidence after this type of event, or what happens if they couldn't.   
  
"Cath, I … I'd really appreciate it if you didn't tell him about this."   
  
"Him?" she asked innocently.   
  
"You could have put those files on the network. There was no reason to personally deliver them other than to check up on me."   
  
Catherine gave her a smile as she got up to leave. "Good to see that brain of yours is still working, kiddo. Don't worry. I won't talk."   
  
"Thanks."   
  
"Are you worried what Gil's going to think?" Catherine waited by the door until Sara gave a brief nod. "Don't. He won't think any less of you. All this, it's forced him to come out of that shell of his. I think he's finding out that it's not as bad outside as he thought it would be. Give him time, Sara, and I think you'll be able to coax him all the way out."   
  
Sara gave her a brief smile before turning back to her work. 


	34. Ch 34

Chapter 34  
  
Grissom arrived at Kane's office punctually at 10:00 a.m., but with a sense of trepidation. This was terra incognita for him on multiple levels. Kane hadn't set aside an entire hour to merely provide answers; the psychologist would have questions of his own. He suspected the journey would venture into territory which would be uncomfortable enough without Kane acting as a question-bearing sherpa.   
  
As much as he wanted to help Sara, Grissom seriously worried he wouldn't be able to do so. It wasn't that he was unwilling to try. If that were true, he never would have returned to Kane's office. But his good intentions didn't change the fact of who he was or his past.   
  
He knew, as a scientist, that a norm was a statistical construct. It was an average of the whole, not necessarily an accurate representation of any given individual. But Grissom also knew that the closest thing to 'normal' in his life was the setting he usually used on his washing machine.   
  
The few times in the past when Grissom had bothered to think about this, he had concluded he was content with being a social anomaly. It was who he was. But now he found himself worrying if Sara could be content with someone so different from the norm.   
  
More importantly, he feared what he would do if she wasn't.   
  
His past experiences in relationships weren't stellar, either, and none of those women had been facing an emotional upheaval - other than dealing with him. If he had been inadequate then, why did he think he could make it work with Sara?   
  
He hadn't been in love with any of those other women.   
  
That revelation had hit him hard, although Grissom was unable to pinpoint the exact moment he had lost the ability to deny his feelings. Or had it been denial? The feelings had existed; but he had buried them to protect himself. Between his fears for Sara's physical safety and pain at being unable to help her, Grissom had been forced to acknowledge what his heart had hidden.   
  
But that insulation was a habit which had begun before Sara was born. Now, it was a part of who he was. Sara may not have given up on him completely, but unless he found a way of letting her in, he knew he would eventually lose her. While he wanted to open up, it was also folly to think he would be able to change a lifetime of behavior quickly.   
  
Since he had acknowledged his feelings, he lost his ability to imagine life without her. Despite his misgivings, he would at least make an effort, and that required he seek assistance. Being cognizant of that fact didn't make the reality any easier to face.   
  
Kane could see the hesitation in Grissom's manner as he entered the room. It wasn't surprising given his nature; the exposure necessary in a counseling session would be unnerving for someone used to keeping people at a distance.   
  
"Good morning, Gil. Have a seat. Coffee?" Kane said kindly.   
  
"No thanks, Philip, I'm fine," he declined softly.   
  
"Are you?"   
  
"As far as caffeine levels goes, yes. Other than that?" Grissom shrugged. "Aren't you supposed to give me that answer?"   
  
"I'm not Karnac; I can't provide the answers, Gil. I can help you find them, if you want," Kane chuckled softly, before turning serious again. "If all you want are answers about Sara, I'll do my best to provide them. You said last time you wanted to help her."   
  
"I do," he said firmly.   
  
"Is that because you're worried she's suicidal? Because of the research Warrick did?" Kane smiled as Grissom suddenly snapped his head up. "Yes, she knows about that. I can tell you, it didn't please her, but once she understood what triggered the concerns, she was more understanding. Gil, let me assure you, there is no reason to worry about that; she's not exhibiting any suicidal tendencies."   
  
"You're certain?" he asked slowly.   
  
"Yes. Gil, you know correlation doesn't imply causation. While there have been a number of well-documented cases of rescue personnel committing suicide after especially stressful situations, it's not clear-cut. There's no way of knowing whether they would have killed themselves eventually. But I'd stake my reputation on Sara's stability in that regard."   
  
"Good," he said, letting out a drawn-out breath, hoping there was no regard in which Kane questioned her stability.   
  
"Now that you know that isn't a concern, are you still interested in helping?"   
  
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"   
  
"She's already rejected you several times."   
  
"She said she just needed time. I want to be there when she's ready."   
  
"That rejection doesn't bother you?"   
  
"She rejected my offers of assistance, not me personally," he said cautiously.   
  
"Still, it must have been painful."   
  
"It wasn't any more than what I deserved, Philip," Grissom sighed, explaining how he had withdrawn while facing his hearing difficulities. "But I guess Sara already told you this."   
  
"Actually, all she mentioned was that your friendship had become strained. She never blamed you."   
  
"She's too forgiving." Grissom gave the other man a searching look. "Is that why she won't let me help? She's afraid I'll pull back again? She doesn't trust me?"   
  
Kane leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "I'd say it's a safe bet that this factors into it. There are other factors in play, Gil, but, yes, that would be part of it."   
  
"What other factors?"   
  
The psychologist remained impassive. The truth was Sara was also facing a crisis of confidence and questioning the direction her life was headed. This was just an additional piece of the puzzle, but it was a useful piece.   
  
"Sorry. I told you there were some things Sara preferred I not talk about. This is one of them. She's still figuring out some of the answers for herself."   
  
"Okay. I won't push," Grissom gave Kane a brief smile. "You'll tell her, won't you? I learned my lesson about pushing?"   
  
"Certainly," he chuckled. "I take it then that you want to work on this?"   
  
"I do. That's why I'm here."   
  
"That's fine, Gil, but that will take an active effort on your part. Let me reassure you, though, anything you say to me is strictly confidential. Would you be willing to talk to me?"   
  
Grissom gave an eventual nod of his head.   
  
"Okay. I know this is an uncomfortable situation and, to be blunt, it's going to get worse. You have to be honest, not only with me, but with yourself. I will try to keep the sessions at a comfortable pace. Let me know if it gets too rough. Also, this is entirely voluntary on your part. You can quit anytime you want."   
  
"I'm not planning on quitting," he said softly.   
  
"Good. Tell me, what exactly to you expect to come from this meeting?"   
  
"A headache," he deadpanned. "Honestly, Philip, I'm uncertain. This, all of this, is completely new to me."   
  
"Let's start off with some general questions, then, to break the ice. Why do you think you pulled back from Sara?"   
  
It was Grissom's turn to laugh, although his lacked humor. "Philip, how many years have you known me? I didn't think I would need to tell you that answer."   
  
"Perhaps, perhaps not. But the question remains: do you know what the problem is?"   
  
"I don't play well with others," he sighed. "It's safer to retreat. I've never been good socially."   
  
"Never? What about childhood friendships?"   
  
"I didn't really have many."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"I was too different on too many levels. My hobbies were considered odd. I wasn't a jock. Even the other 'brains' considered me an outsider." He paused to rub his temples. While those factors were true, he also knew they weren't the only issues. "I came from a single-parent home in a time when that wasn't considered socially desirable. The fact my father left under suspicious circumstances didn't help."   
  
"How old were you when he left?"   
  
"Not quite six."   
  
"What else?"   
  
"My mother was deaf."   
  
"And it was just the two of you after your father left?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"So, you never talked at home?"   
  
"Philip, I am very close to my mother. We communicated," Grissom said, trying not to sound defensive, wondering if his life was about to be turned into a cliché.   
  
"Sorry, that was a poor choice of words on my part. I should have said you never vocalized. You used sign language, I assume? And, among the proficient, sign language moves beyond just the hands. You can't use your voice's inflection to impress a meaning, so you use a look or body language."   
  
"Which probably wouldn't be obvious to someone else," Grissom said, seeing Kane's point. "I may have thought I was communicating more than I actually was."   
  
"That's a possibility. Let's move forward a bit. How about adult friendships?"   
  
"I still don't have many."   
  
"Really? You certainly seem to get along well enough with your team."   
  
"I'm on friendly terms with a lot of people, but there are very few would I actually call friends. Someone that I would turn to for personal problems."   
  
"What about adult relationships?"   
  
"Few and far between. The only one which could be considered 'serious' ended very badly," Grissom said cautiously. This was a subject he had never talked to anyone about, yet Catherine had recognized the 'third-degree burns' it had left.   
  
"Sounds like you became used to being alone at an early age. This never bothered you before?"   
  
"I'm not sure I would say it bothers me now. 'Your strength is in your solitude. If you are alone you belong entirely to yourself'," Grissom said. "From Da Vinci."   
  
Kane smiled. "Da Vinci? Let's see: 'His urge was towards fantasy rather than reality, and his preference was for the unattainable; and from youth until the end of his life, he seemed always to be separate and enveloped in solitude.' I believe that was another one of his quotes."   
  
"Da Vinci said a lot of things," he responded neutrally.   
  
"True. Personally, I always preferred John Donne. 'No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.'"   
  
Grissom removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Usually he enjoyed a verbal exchange with someone who was equally well-versed. But Kane had to pick that work. The ending seemed profound now. 'Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind and therefore never send for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.'   
  
He considered the number of deaths he had seen over the years. Had he been diminished to the point of no return or had he withdrawn from humanity as a form of protection? Either option didn't seem hopeful. Sara, though, had retained her involvement. Could she be happy if he didn't make the attempt?   
  
"Do you want to let Sara in?"   
  
Kane's question startled him. He hadn't realized how lost he had become in his thoughts. Ultimately, this was why he was here. He didn't want the bell tolling for his future.   
  
"Yes."   
  
"You sound like you find the idea frightening."   
  
Grissom remained silent for a moment. "It is, but not the way you're thinking. Yeah, if I let her in, I could be hurt. That's not a comforting thought. But I'm more worried about Sara. I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to build her hopes up, then have her find out I can't change enough for her."   
  
"Change? How has Sara ever asked you to change?"   
  
Grissom cocked his head as he tried to recall any time she requested he be anything other than himself. If anything, she said she had wanted to be more like him.   
  
"Gil, I think you'll find that Sara accepts you for who you are. That doesn't mean that you can't make ... compromises ... which will make her happier. But you have to be willing to make the changes for yourself; you can't model yourself on someone else's expectations."   
  
"I want to let her get closer, Philip. That's why I'm here," Grissom sighed, then gave Kane an apologetic shrug. "That doesn't mean I'm not nervous."   
  
"'Expose yourself to your deepest fear; after that, fear has no power, and the fear of freedom shrinks and vanishes. You are free'," said Kane.   
  
Grissom wrinkled his forehead in thought as he tried to place the quote. "Santayana?"   
  
"Jim Morrisson. I'm a forensic psychologist, Gil. 'People are Strange' is practically our anthem," Kane said with a laugh.   
  
"Philip, will you tell Sara I'm trying?" he eventually asked.   
  
"Is that what you want?"   
  
"Honestly? No. I want to tell her myself, but I know I can't," he sighed. "And it's a trust thing. She's willing to waive her privacy because she was worried about me. My doing the same is the least I can do for her." 


	35. Ch 35

Chapter 35  
  
It was another psychological ploy. Grissom recognized it, in fact, on some level he had been expecting it, but it still irked him. Maneuvering his shopping cart around another floor display, he wondered how many people were aware of these tricks grocery stores used to increase impulse buys.   
  
This wasn't his normal store, but other errands had him in the area and he had run out of some essential supplies. He had thought he would save time stopping here instead of crossing town to his usual haunts, but it was taking longer than he had expected.   
  
That seemed to be the story of his life at the moment.   
  
Kane had insisted that meeting more than once a week wouldn't be productive, although Grissom had wanted more frequent visits. It had taken him years to become this isolated; he didn't want it to take years to improve. He wasn't sure he had that kind of time.   
  
Besides his initial visit looking for information, he'd only seen Kane twice. Both sessions involved dwelling on experiences he'd rather not have recalled, let alone discuss. In return, he seemed to be getting little in the way of practical advice.   
  
Right now, advice was something he desperately wanted. Short of some help with computer research, Sara had been reluctant to work on cases. Grissom was beginning to think that she had finally burnt out. It was something he feared would happen for years, but that didn't make it easier to face. If she didn't stay with the lab, he didn't know if she would be willing to stay in Las Vegas.   
  
Grissom ignored those thoughts; he would deal with that if it came to pass. Scanning the shelves, he started when he caught site of Sara entering the aisle from the other end. He hadn't realized this was where she shopped; it wasn't close to her apartment, nor was it convenient to the lab. While he was glad to see her, he didn't know if the feelings would be reciprocated.   
  
Grabbing a package from the shelf, he turned slightly so he was facing away from her and pretended to read the labeling. It may have been cowardly, but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but he resisted the urge to turn around until he heard her teasing voice.   
  
"Maybe you guys can stand the cheap single-ply stuff, but I can't. Too scratchy."   
  
Grissom turned back to find Sara leaning against his cart, balancing her basket on the edge. He returned her smile, but had a puzzled look. That prompted her to point to the package of toilet paper in his hands. As realization struck, he wondered how he should respond to that personal tidbit. Settling on a shrug, he switched the package for his normal brand.   
  
"Sorry. That was probably too much information," Sara said with a bashful smile. "Grissom, this is a public place. You don't have to hide from me. Not that I blame you, though."   
  
"I wasn't hiding. Not from you. Not like that. I ... I'm babbling, aren't I?"   
  
"A little. It's kinda cute," she said, her eyes twinkling as a gleeful expression crossed his face.   
  
"I didn't know you shopped here," he said deliberately. 'Express an interest' was one piece of advice he had been given.   
  
"They have a good selection of organic produce here," Sara answered.   
  
"Organic?"   
  
"I spent my formative years with hippies. Some of it was bound to rub off. And, yes, I do make my own salads," she said, a hint of challenge in her tone.   
  
"I'm impressed. You didn't get the bagged greens," he teased as he examined her basket, trying to learn something about what she ate. Even after the hamburger incident, he hadn't really paid attention to her eating habits.   
  
She smiled, but remained silent. After a moment, she shifted uncomfortably. Grissom worried he may have insulted her and was preparing to excuse himself, when she gave him a questioning look.   
  
"Want to try an experiment?"   
  
Grissom raised his eyebrows in curiosity. Normally, he loved conducting experiments, especially with Sara. Now, he found he was equally cautious and anxious.   
  
"I guess it would depend on the experiment," he said gently.   
  
"There's a snack area up front. We've been in close proximity for more than 60 seconds without me biting your head off. What to see if we go a bit longer?"   
  
"I'd be interested in seeing the results."   
  
"Let's see if you say the same thing in a few minutes," she replied sarcastically.   
  
They picked up some coffee and settled into one of the small tables in the corner of the store. After another silent moment, Grissom decided to try another piece of advice: an honest compliment.   
  
"You look ...," he said, suddenly unsure how to continue. He didn't want it to carry any unintended implications. 'Beautiful', while honest, probably wasn't a good choice. 'Nice' and 'well' were too impersonal. He never liked 'good'; on a bad day, did someone look 'evil'? When Sara looked at him expectantly, he blurted out "healthier" before dropping his head.   
  
"Thanks," she chuckled. "I feel healthier. Look, Grissom, I want to apologize for that scene in my apartment."   
  
"Sara, don't. I never should have come over."   
  
"Are you ever going to just let me apologize?" she asked, but without any rancor. "I'm sorry. You caught me at a really bad time. Hadn't slept well in days. Got some really bad news the day before. And there were the drugs; that was a real sore point for me. Hoped I wouldn't have to go there."   
  
Grissom watched her carefully as he thought out his response and how it would sound. He didn't want to point out that her mood swings weren't something she had any control over. She knew it and probably wouldn't appreciate it being brought up.   
  
"I should have listened to you in the first place. I was worried."   
  
"Okay. Thanks," Sara said evenly. "What?"   
  
"What?" Grissom asked in return.   
  
"You look like you want to ask me something."   
  
"I do," he admitted. "I don't want to push."   
  
"Go ahead. I'm in an amazingly non-violent mood today," she said lightly. "I reserve the right not to answer, though."   
  
"How are you?" he asked quietly, leaning forward to give them a little more privacy.   
  
"Been better. Been worse," she said in an equally low voice. "Nightmares aren't as bad. Haven't had a flashback in a while. Still don't have much of a life. I knew before that I didn't, but it was easier to ignore when I could bury myself in work."   
  
Grissom watched her sadly, unsure of how to respond. He had warned her before that she needed some outside interests. He took no satisfaction in that; it was a shame it took such a tragic occurrence to drive the point home.   
  
"Have you found something to fill the time?"   
  
"Doc recommended I try yoga. Said it would be relaxing," she rolled her eyes. "That was just dumb. I think I stressed out the instructor. The gym had a kickboxing demo; tried that. Might sign up for it. Don't worry, you won't be a target."   
  
He smiled briefly at the joke. "Catherine said you were visiting the girl from the accident. How is she doing?"   
  
"Well, the doctors think they've managed to get the infection under control, but that it may have done some permanent damage. They're running tests today, or I'd be there now."   
  
"I hope she gets well soon," he said kindly.   
  
"So do I."   
  
"What about hobbies? How's the bonsai coming?"   
  
"I think it's dying. Probably over-pruned the roots," she said with a sigh. "Good thing I didn't go with the aquarium, huh?"   
  
"Probably easier to over-prune a fish," he teased, then winced. That had sounded more amusing in his head. He had intended to lighten the mood. "Sorry. I'm still new to all this. I am trying."   
  
"So I've heard," Sara said, leaning back to observe him.   
  
"You sound surprised," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral.   
  
"I guess I am. A little," she said, giving him a shy grin. "And flattered. A lot."   
  
"Well, then," he said with his own smile.   
  
Sara leaned back over the table, lowering her voice again. Grissom felt she seemed hesitant.   
  
"Look, I told Kane not to give me any details. Don't worry. I ... I know how private you are."   
  
He sipped his coffee slowly, using it was a stalling tactic. Her response was a little unsettling. Sara had been perfectly willing to waive her confidentiality for his benefit, and she valued her privacy as deeply as he did. It sounded like she doubted he was willing or capable of returning the trust.   
  
"I told him he could, Sara. I want you to know I'm trying to change," he said slowly.   
  
"But I don't want you to change."   
  
"Why not?" Grissom asked in obvious confusion. Everyone had been telling him he had been too distant for years.   
  
When she didn't answer immediately, he felt his unease rise. Had he been mistaken about Sara wanting to give him a chance?   
  
Seeing him tense, Sara gave him a weak smile. It didn't reach her eyes. "You don't have to do this, Grissom. I know how uncomfortable it can be. I don't expect it; I don't need it. Besides, I … like … you the way you are," she said bashfully. "Don't do anything you don't want to do. Not for me."   
  
"How about for me? I ... know ... I've become ... remote. It's not easy for me to trust people, on a personal level," he said slowly. "I want to trust you. It wasn't intentional, but it's gotten to the point that I hurt you."   
  
"I understand why you didn't tell me about the surgery, Grissom, if that's what this is about. I never gave you a reason to doubt me, but I never gave you a reason to trust me, either. Don't sweat it."   
  
"I want to do this," he repeated softly, watching as she gave a slightly more believable smile. Sensing that she was getting uncomfortable with the discussion, he stood up.   
  
"You don't have to go," she said hesitantly.   
  
"I don't want to push," he said gently. "I'm learning."   
  
She finished her coffee and got up as well. "What do you think? About the experiment results."   
  
Grissom cocked his head, as if considering the answer. "I'd say the early indications are promising. But you know, we really should repeat the experiment to verify the results."   
  
Sara's smile was heart-felt this time. 


	36. Ch 36

Chapter 36  
  
As she pulled into the lab parking lot that evening, Sara felt less stressed than she had since before accident. Professionally, her life was still a mess; she doubted she would be returning to her old job, at least not any time soon. As for her personal life, she hadn't felt this optimistic since she first came to Las Vegas.   
  
If someone had told her just a month ago that Grissom would be talking to a psychologist, Sara doubted she would have believed it. If they had added it was for her benefit, she was certain she would have laughed. Now that she knew it was true, it confused her, but in pleasant ways.   
  
As did Grissom.   
  
She smiled as she thought of him. Sara didn't mind his privacy. It was part of what made Grissom the man he was. She neither needed nor wanted him singing to her in the lab's break room or hiring an aerial writer to announce his feelings to all of Clark County. What hurt was the inconsistency, the offering of hope, then the retraction. He would give her just enough emotional rope with which to hang herself when he eventually pulled back.   
  
That he recognized that he had hurt her and was trying to improve touched her deeply. It also gave her hope in the direction her life was heading. She had been worried how Grissom would react if she left. This gave her confidence he would understand why she needed to get away for a little while.   
  
The incident with Hunter Lawrence had shattered her self-confidence. If she could overlook something as basic as checking for a pulse, she worried what other mistakes she might make. Forensics wasn't a field where mistakes could be taken lightly.   
  
Even a lab position wasn't safe. The general public didn't realize how delicate evidence could be, or how easily it could be contaminated. Many of the tests they ran were destructive and it wasn't uncommon for them to have only enough material to run one series of tests. The consequences of a mistake could be severe: a child rapist could go free or an innocent man could get a life sentence.   
  
Sara didn't want either on her conscience.   
  
Computer evidence didn't bother her. They worked with copies of the files and even those could be recovered if there was an accident. But she wasn't an expert in the field and there wasn't enough work she could do that would justify a full-time position.   
  
Kane had said her confidence would return gradually, and had recommended she take a break before making any final decisions. Sara hoped he was right. She did miss the work; it held a challenge and provided a level of satisfaction she doubted she'd find on another job.   
  
When she wrapped up her reviews, she was considering spending an extended vacation with her parents. Originally, she had worried that Grissom would see her leaving as a failure on her part, or as running away. Or abandoning him. Now, she was sure that he would accept it, if not completely understand it.   
  
In the back of her mind, she also considered asking him to join her towards the end of visit. Right now, she knew she wasn't in a position to be in a relationship. It would be one-sided; she could take, but she didn't have anything to offer. As much as she wanted him, as much as she needed him, Sara wouldn't use Grissom.   
  
But if all went well on the vacation, the time away from the lab could give her the perspective she needed to get herself together. If he joined her, they would have a chance to get closer without the pressures of hiding it from the others or the constant interruptions from work.   
  
A wistful expression settled on her face as she crossed the parking lot. As she approached the building, she recognized Tim Malley standing in front. He was one of the many deputies who flirted with her at crime scenes. She called out a friendly greeting, but noticed he seemed nervous as she came closer.   
  
"Sorry, Sara, but you've been served," he said quietly, pressing the folded papers into her hand before quickly leaving the scene.   
  
She stared at the subpoena.   
  
~~~~~   
  
Grissom was heading back to his office with a cup of coffee when he saw a shocked-looking Sara walking down the hallway. He called her name softly, prompting her to look up from the papers in her hand. She gave a subtle shake of her head as she passed. He nodded in return and pointed towards his office.   
  
"If you need anything," he said softly.   
  
She returned the nod before entering the locker room.   
  
When Catherine entered the room a few minutes later, she found Sara sitting on the bench reading. She called out a friendly greeting which was returned automatically, but without any feeling. Turning to watch her closer, Catherine recognized the legal documents.   
  
"What's up?"   
  
"I've been subpoenaed. About the accident."   
  
"Who's suing?" Catherine asked cautiously. Had one of the dead children's parents decided to sue Sara? Nevada had Good Samaritan laws; any suit against Sara would be without merit, but grief-striken parents weren't the most logical people.   
  
"Families of a bunch of the kids. They're suing the truck driver's insurance, the company that hired him and the school district," she said softly. "They want my testimony. I'm a witness"   
  
Catherine took a seat beside her. Sara seemed almost in a state of shock, but it quickly morphed into anger. After a moment, she turned to look at the older woman.   
  
"Cath, I don't think I can testify. I … if I have to relive that … in court … I don't think I can do it."   
  
"It's okay …"   
  
"What do you mean it's okay? I can't do this!" Sara suddenly exclaimed, jumping up to slam the lockers. "Cath, this is it. This kills my career. I don't have to worry if I can return."   
  
"Look, sweetie, don't worry about …"   
  
"That's easy for you to say! It's not your life! If I testify, I'll probably break down. My credibility is shot. If I don't testify, I go to jail for contempt. That ends my career. I can't lie and say I don't remember. It's perjury and I wouldn't be very credible if I couldn't remember something like this."   
  
"Sara, calm down. You don't have to testify …"   
  
"What do you …"   
  
"You aren't thinking this through!" Catherine finally yelled to get her attention. "Sorry. Look, Sara, you don't have to testify. Not yet, anyway. Probably never. Right now, you have to be deposed. That's it; you just have to answer the lawyers' questions about what happened."   
  
Sara took a deep breath and settled back on the bench.   
  
"They don't have to be present when you answer. You can have your own lawyer read the questions, that way you can control the session. If it gets to be too much, just take a break to calm down. Insist on a court reporter to transcribe it; don't have it videotaped. That way, the other attorneys won't know how you react, just your words."   
  
Catherine reached over to rub her arm.   
  
"Don't use departmental representation. Get your own attorney for this, understand? Screw privilege. I've seen those guys grabbing a drink after work. They talk about cases, even if they don't mention names. Someone could figure out they're talking about you. You don't want this getting back to the lab."   
  
Sara nodded. "Okay. You're right."   
  
Catherine reached for her purse and started rummaging through it. After a moment she pulled out a business card. "Do you have your own attorney? Here. Maureen Chambers. She handled my stuff with Eddie. If you don't like her, she can recommend someone else. She works strictly civil matters and she's discreet as hell. This won't get back to work."   
  
"Thanks."   
  
"Listen, they'll probably grill you about what happened on the bus with the deposition questions. Be ready for it, but that'll probably never come up in court. It would be considered prejudicial. The odds are you're never going to have to testify. Witnesses rarely do."   
  
"With my luck? I'll have to testify," Sara said hotly.   
  
"Don't count on it. They are going after the people with the big money. Those people have lots of lawyers. This will either be settled out of court quickly, or it will be years before it ever reaches court."   
  
"God, Cath, I thought this was over. Now it's going to be years before all the legal hassles are through. Shit! I hate this."   
  
The blonde gave her a sympathetic shrug. "You wanna take the night off? Get some rest?"   
  
"No," she said firmly. Sara thanked her again, and left the locker room quickly, forcing herself to stay calm.   
  
Damn! She had thought this was behind her, that she was getting some control over her emotional outbursts, but right now it was taking all her control not to storm down the hallway. As much as wanted to retreat to the safety of her office, she needed to find Grissom. She could tell that he had been worried earlier. If she wasn't so upset, that thought would have made Sara smile.   
  
As she came down the hallway, she watched in confusion as he walked towards his office with a cup of coffee. Hadn't he just gotten one?   
  
"Apparatus," he said softly, ushering her into his office. "In case you want to repeat our experiment."   
  
"You may want to rethink that offer. Your test subject is pretty pissed off right now."   
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, closing the door behind them.   
  
Despite her anger, Sara couldn't resist smiling at his courage. She took the coffee and walked over to examine his shelves. "Got served on the way into work"   
  
"Civil litigation?"   
  
"Yeah. Witness. Don't know why it surprises me. Damn lawyers are worse than reporters! They don't even know what caused the accident, and they are already suing. Dammit!"   
  
Grissom watched carefully. He could tell from her voice that she was trying to stay calm, but was uncertain what to do. As she began to fiddle with books on the shelves, he walked slowly towards her.   
  
"I hate this! God, it was just a few minutes of my life. I just want to forget it. How many times am I going to have to relive this? Damn. Look at me. Can you imagine what I'll be like on the stand if I have to testify?" Sara asked with a dark laugh. "I'll make the lab look real good."   
  
"Don't worry about the lab. That's not important now."   
  
Sara turned around when she heard the soft voice beside her. Grissom was standing nearby, but keeping a discreet distance. She wasn't sure which surprised her more: what he said or the amount of compassion he used in saying it.   
  
"Don't worry about testifying. Even if you get called, and that's not likely, it will probably be years from now. You'll be able to handle it, Sara. Don't worry," he repeated calmly.   
  
"You know, it's to the point I wished I never stopped. That I never went on that bus. God, what type of person does that make me?" Sara said angrily.   
  
"Human."   
  
She let out a disgusted snort, half-wishing he wouldn't be so supportive right now. "Yeah, a selfish one."   
  
"Just human," he repeated softly. "You've done nothing wrong. It was a terrible incident, Sara, and no one can blame you for wishing it never happened. We both know that you would still have helped, even if you had known in advance what it would do to you."   
  
"I wish I could believe that," she whispered, her voice cracking.   
  
Grissom's hand was rubbing her back before he realized what he was doing. Before he could pull back, Sara set down her coffee, turned towards him and stepped closer. He could see her eyes watering as she fought to retain control.   
  
"God, Grissom, I just want this to end. I want to move on," she said softly as their eyes locked. "I want …"   
  
He couldn't make out the rest of her statement as she buried her face in his neck. As he wrapped his other arm around her, his mind screamed for him to step back. She was upset, but still needed time. When he felt her hot tears, Grissom pulled her closer, ignoring the inner voice that was warning him that this wasn't safe.   
  
"Hey, Gil, just want to give you a heads up …" Catherine paused as she cracked the door open and saw the embrace. Sara quickly pulled back, swearing softly before heading out of the room. Wiping at her tears, she nearly collided with Warrick and Greg as they turned the corner. Ignoring their calls, she headed for the privacy of the stairwell. She didn't see the three evil glares directed back towards Grissom, who now stood beside Catherine in the doorway.   
  
"Smart, Grissom, real smart," Catherine muttered before spinning around and heading for the break room.   
  
Crossing back to his desk, he sank slowly into his chair and rubbed his temples. Glancing at the stacks of paperwork, he worried how soon it would be before people began requesting transfers to the day shift - or plotting his imminent demise. 


	37. Ch 37

Chapter 37  
  
The soothing sounds of Chopin drifted through the townhouse, but did little to improve the mood of the man sitting alone in the living room. Taking another sip of his ice water, Grissom stared at the phone. It was unlikely she'd call, but he was hopeful nonetheless.   
  
Turning his attention to the clock, he saw it was going on 4 p.m. He'd have to get ready to head to the airport soon. If he wasn't the featured speaker, Grissom would have cancelled his plans to attend the seminar. The timing was terrible.   
  
His eyes wandered over to Sara's plants sitting on his table. He had promised to take care of them while she was on vacation. If she didn't call soon, they wouldn't have a chance to see each other for two weeks. She'd be leaving for California before he got back from Denver.   
  
Grissom got up and walked to the plants, making sure they were watered. He double-checked the note he had left for his house-sitter, reminding her to mist the bonsai everyday when she came to feed his bugs. True to her nature, Sara had refused to give up on the azalea. It seemed to be recovering. He hoped she was doing as well.   
  
Today was her deposition; it had started nearly eight hours ago. He had told her to call him when she was done if she needed to unwind, but she had only said she would think about it. While she seemed grateful for the offer, he knew this was something she didn't want to share with him.   
  
It had been obvious to everyone that she hadn't been looking forward to being deposed. In fact, as the date approached, her stress levels increased and her temper shortened. In private, Sara had refused to even discuss it with Grissom.   
  
He recognized this was forcing her to relive something she wanted to forget, but he was beginning to worry about what exactly it was she wanted to forget. Besides a questionable newspaper article and Nick's cryptic clue that she questioned whether she could have done more, Grissom had no idea what had happened to Sara on that bus. He feared it was more serious than he originally believed.   
  
When he finally asked Philip Kane directly, the psychologist refused to answer, explaining it was a subject Sara didn't want discussed. That had been disconcerting; she had willingly opened the other details of her therapy up to him.   
  
Unfortunately, she wouldn't tell him, either. While they had actually spent quite a lot of time together over the last few days, she had purposefully kept the discussions on trivial subjects. He wasn't sure if that was a good or bad sign.   
  
Since Catherine had interrupted their hug last week, Sara had become a bit withdrawn around him. At first, he feared he had made her angry by not giving her the space she had requested. But he had been uncertain what else he could have done, given the circumstances. Ignoring her would have been cruel.   
  
After fleeing his office, she had spent the rest of that night avoiding him, a fact not lost on the rest of the team. As much as he disliked being cast as the office villain, it was better than their later pity.   
  
On the following evening, he found a card on his desk. In it, Sara apologized for both the hug and the earlier kiss, writing that she knew that they were both inappropriate for the workplace. She added that if any professional repercussions arose, she would take full responsibility, as she had initiated both encounters.   
  
The note became more personal when Sara wrote that she understood that he was wary of an intra-office relationship, especially with a subordinate. She added that she hoped he understood that she hadn't meant to either make him uncomfortable or embarrass him. It ended with a request that he not let this stand in the way of their re-developing friendship.   
  
When he finished, Grissom felt confused. Part of him was glad that she wasn't angry with him, and that she understood why he had been hesitant about becoming involved. But at the same time, the formality of the note seemed almost cold. It made him question if he had misread her intentions. Was a friendship all she was interested in? But then why had she kissed him?   
  
Knowing he'd never figure it out on his own, but wondering if he was pushing his luck, Grissom tracked her down in her office and asked if she would like to join him later for lunch. Much to his relief, she accepted without hesitation.   
  
Sara was the first to notice the mixture of confused and harsh looks directed their way later when they walked through the hallways towards the exit. Grissom waited until they were in his SUV to explain that the others had seen her leave his office agitated, and had assumed he had done something to make her upset again.   
  
While he said it lightly, the revelation had made Sara surprisingly upset. She had promised to find Catherine when they got back and explain what had really happened, but he asked her not to. At Sara's confused look, he explained that he wasn't bothered and would prefer she not talk about it. His tone had indicated it wasn't a subject he wanted to drop.   
  
Letting out a sigh, Grissom stared at the phone again. If he hadn't been so distracted by her rubbing her hand over his hand that night, he probably would have realized he should have explained his reasoning to Sara then. It would have saved them both a lot of trouble if he had.   
  
Honestly, it did bother him slightly that the team thought he was to blame for her being upset. But that wasn't nearly as disturbing as the thought of their relationship becoming common knowledge. The truth was Grissom had been feeling overwhelmed.   
  
It was rare for him to discuss his personal life. He accepted doing so with Sara, and he understood he needed to do so with Philip. But on several occasions since the accident, Catherine had drug more out of him than he was comfortable with and the idea of more of his private life becoming public was unsettling.   
  
Sara had dropped the matter as they entered the diner and Grissom waited until they had their sandwiches before he broached the subject of her note. She gave him a rueful smile and apologized again, saying she was sorry she hadn't been able to control her outbursts. He lightly joked that he preferred her latest outbursts to her temper, which of course, made her angry.   
  
That was when he realized the extent to which Sara was embarrassed by her lack of control. She had always been emotional, but they had never controlled her. The semblance of control she had regained since the accident was being lost to the stress of the upcoming deposition.   
  
A simultaneous "I'm sorry" had broken the tension and they both had laughed. Grissom briefly tried to discuss the deposition with Sara, since she had never been involved in a civil case before. He had wanted her to understand what to expect, but he had quickly recognized she didn't want to talk about it. They ended up spending the rest of the meal talking about inconsequential topics.   
  
A page from Brass had ended the meal early. Walking back to his Tahoe, Sara had asked shyly if he wanted to continue their experiment over breakfast. He had eagerly agreed and dropped her off at the lab feeling better than he had in a while.   
  
When he had returned to the lab a few hours later, it took him a moment to realize something had changed. People were still staring at him as he walked down the hallway. After another moment, he noticed they were no longer angry looks. Some were apologetic, some shocked and more than a few were amused. He had no idea what was going on until he bumped into Greg.   
  
"So, you and Sara, huh? Guess I never had a chance," the lab tech had said in a jovial tone. His humor had disappeared when Grissom dragged him into his office and slammed the door shut.   
  
"What the hell are you talking about Greg?"   
  
"Uh, you and Sara. Working things out. That's good. Uh …"   
  
"How the hell did you find out?"   
  
Greg had blanched under the verbal assault. For the first time since the accident, Grissom had lost control of his temper. The stress had been getting to him as well, but this was the first time he had let it out, and the lab tech was bearing the full brunt of it.   
  
"It was an accident," Greg had stuttered when he realized the trouble he had caused. "Sara didn't mean to say anything. It was Cath, and then the cat fight, and she was trying to be helpful …"   
  
"Greg, start at the beginning and don't even think of leaving anything out."   
  
The frightened lab tech recalled how Catherine had cornered Sara in the break room when she returned from lunch. That the older woman wanted to know why she had gone to lunch with him, when he hadn't been listening to her requests to back off. That he was essentially a basket case – while those were Greg's words, it had been obvious Catherine said something else – and she'd be better off just giving up on him.   
  
Sara had tried to avoid the conversation, but Nick had joined in, questioning why she bothered to defend him. She had warned both of them to drop the topic, but they both turned on her, wanting to know what had gotten into her, if she was so needy that she was willing to accept the little Grissom could offer.   
  
Grissom had winced at that, not because of what they thought of him, but he knew under normal circumstances Sara would have reacted harshly to someone implying that of her. Needless to say, they had managed to trigger an angry response from Sara. She had bluntly told them to leave her alone and to stay out of her life. When they had fired back that they were trying to help her and not use her, Sara had finally lost control. She told them that Grissom had been doing more to help her than everyone else combined.   
  
Greg had swallowed nervously before letting the bombshell drop: Sara had revealed he was seeing Kane.   
  
Grissom had stormed out of his office, unable to believe what had happened. For the first time in ages, he had trusted someone on a deeply personal level. It had taken her no time at all to betray that trust. When Catherine came out of the A/V lab and tried to calm him down, he simply told her quietly to perform a procreative act by herself.   
  
Barging into Sara's office, he began berating her for violating his trust. It wasn't until after a long rant that he realized she had spent the entire time facing out the window. Walking around her desk, he had spun her chair to face him and then stepped back in shock.   
  
It had been clear she had been crying for a long time, even before he had started yelling at her. She had been pale, trembling and refused to look at him. He had knelt beside her, but Sara had pulled back, as if she were afraid of him. It was then that Greg's words had hit him: it had been an accident. Catherine had triggered an outburst from her.   
  
Silently cursing himself, he had softly and calmly talked to her, trying to apologize. After a few minutes, she had finally looked at him and whispered she was sorry. He had tried to pull her into a hug, but she wouldn't allow it. He spent a little while longer with her, reassuring her that he knew it had been accidental. It hadn't seemed to help any.   
  
She never showed up for breakfast the next morning and had called in sick the that night. Grissom had spent the shift angrily staring down anyone who approached him with anything not work-related. In the morning, he had stopped by her apartment, but her SUV wasn't in the parking lot and she hadn't answered. The following evening, she stopped by his townhouse before work. They had spent more than two hours talking, but both knew things weren't as good as they had been beforehand.   
  
At the end of the next shift, Sara had handed him the vacation request, simply stating she wanted to visit her parents. He had no reason to deny the request and had admitted the time off would probably do her good. He gladly agreed to water her plants for her, but was a little surprised when she brought them over, rather than just letting him borrow a key.   
  
Since then, they'd had shared at least one meal together every day, but Sara still seemed distant. Grissom knew she was embarrassed that she had lost control and sorry that she had let slip he was seeing a psychologist, but he couldn't help but fear something else was wrong.   
  
He let out another long sigh. She still hadn't called. Taking one last look around the townhouse, he gathered up his bags and left, unable to shake the feeling that something was very wrong. 


	38. Ch 38

Chapter 38  
  
While the letters printed, Sara carried the last of her bags to her SUV. After signing and sealing the documents, she turned her attention to breaking down the computer, since she planned on taking it with her.   
  
Returning from packing the electronics, Sara ran down her mental checklist. The refrigerator was empty; the trash had been taken out; no water was running; the mail was taken care of. The only thing left was personal affairs.   
  
She'd already said good-bye to Teresa and her parents. They'd flown to Baltimore the day before yesterday, where specialists at the Johns Hopkins Childrens Hospital would try to repair her heart damage.   
  
The letters were for her co-workers. She didn't want to head off to California without making an attempt to clear the air. Things had been tense since the fight with Catherine and Nick. They had felt guilty that they had triggered the revelation from her. Oddly, Sara wasn't angry with them. They had only been trying to be helpful.   
  
She was the one who lost control and announced Grissom's therapy in the hallway for the whole lab to hear. She was the one who had betrayed his trust, and she wouldn't rationalize that they had been partially responsible. It didn't seem right leaving letters, but she wanted to be on the road before nightfall. Besides, she wasn't up to a face-to-face discussion with them right now.   
  
Picking up the envelopes, she let out a sad sigh. Grissom's letter had been the hardest to write. She wished she could talk to him, but he wasn't due back from Denver for another two days. Her deposition had lasted too long. By the time she was finished, his flight had already left. There was so much she wanted to apologize for, so much to thank him for. Sara doubted she could do it over the phone, so she settled for the note.   
  
Hopefully, it conveyed her feelings successfully. She had already hurt him accidentally. She wanted this to be as painless for him as possible, and had already asked Kane to check on him.   
  
Scanning the apartment a final time, Sara made sure she hadn't left anything undone.   
  
The building supervisor had agreed to let Goodwill in to collect her furniture and the pre-boxed household items. It would be just as easy to replace them when she found a new apartment in California than to hire a moving company. She had no special attachment to the items.   
  
Closing the door, Sara headed for the parking lot. She'd drop off the letters at the lab before she left Las Vegas behind her.   
  
~~~~   
  
Grissom headed upstairs, trying to ignore the stares. Ever since Sara had slipped and let the office know he was seeing a psychologist, he'd felt like he was a specimen in some display. He wasn't in the mood for it right now.   
  
It had been deeply embarrassing that something so personal had become the subject of the office gossip pool. He'd been hurt and angry that Sara – of all people – had done that to him. More than anyone, she should have known how much this would bother him.   
  
But more than anything, when he admitted it to himself, he was ashamed. He knew it had been an accident. She had been having trouble controlling her temper. Sara had been provoked into revealing it; in fact, she had been defending him.   
  
Grissom yawned deeply as he raced up the steps. The look of fear on Sara's face that night was something he wished he'd never seen. It had been disconcerting by itself, but the knowledge that he caused it made him feel sick to his stomach. Could she ever trust him if she was afraid of him? She certainly had withdrawn after that.   
  
Those thoughts had been haunting him through his talk in Denver. Afterwards, he'd called his home phone number from the hotel room, hoping to find a message from her. What he got was a message from Philip Kane, telling him to see him as soon as he returned.   
  
That vague statement had been enough for Grissom to leave the seminar early. He'd been unable to get a direct flight back to Las Vegas, having to settle for a circuitous route going through Houston and Phoenix. A storm over the mountains had further delayed his return.   
  
Heading towards Kane's office, Grissom barely acknowledged the secretary before knocking. "What's up, Philip?"   
  
"Gil, I wasn't expecting you so soon."   
  
"I left the seminar early. What's wrong?" he answered shortly.   
  
"Have you seen Sara yet?"   
  
"No. Why?"   
  
"Have a seat, Gil," the psychologist said kindly. "Sara's decided to take a leave-of-absence. She felt she needed some time away from the lab to think about her career. I have to agree; at this point, it's probably the best thing for her."   
  
Grissom let out a ragged breath, grateful it wasn't an emergency. He didn't want to lose her as a CSI, but he was more concerned about her mental well-being. "Okay. Fine. I'll sign the paperwork when she gets back from vacation."   
  
"She was going to take care of the paperwork before she left for California," he said slowly.   
  
"Sara's leaving this afternoon. Why would she take care of it …" Grissom paused, watching Kane's expression carefully. His stomach churned. "She's not coming back."   
  
~~~~~   
  
Sara ran her fingers over the pictures as she removed them from her locker. Everything else was already in the bag. The letters to her friends had been slipped into their respective lockers; Grissom's was sitting on his desk. She hated to leave this way, but she didn't know what other choice she had.   
  
"Crazy Grissom."   
  
Even now, the memory of the taunts shocked her. It happened the day after her deposition. She'd overheard the comment after she had dropped off her final review to the sheriff. A group of lab techs and secretaries from day shift had been lounging around the water cooler, joking about him.   
  
"I always thought he was crazy, him and those bugs."   
  
"Did anyone really think he was stable?"   
  
"How did ever get to be supervisor?"   
  
Sara bit her lip to stop the tears as she remembered. What had she done to him?   
  
She had been having a hard enough time dealing with her own troubles since the accident. It bothered her that she had been unable to manage her emotional state. She had always been proud of her self-discipline. That she had hurt Grissom with her angry outbursts tore her up. She loved him too much not to be moved by it.   
  
But that had been nothing compared to the self-reproach when she had violated his trust. It had touched her deeply that he was willing to see Kane for her. She recognized how difficult a decision that had to have been for him. Then she had exposed him to embarrassment by announcing it to the lab.   
  
She was afraid he would never forgive her. He had every right to be angry with her. This was probably the most difficult personal event in his life. Grissom was very private, and she had made this public knowledge.   
  
Now, Sara realized she may have damaged his career. That was more than she could bear. Grissom had been so supportive, when she had done nothing to deserve his kindness. In return, all she had done was possibly taken the most important thing in his life away from him.   
  
Until she could restrain herself, until she knew she wouldn't cause him any more grief, Sara had to get away. There was no way she could carry the burden of causing him any additional pain.   
  
Casting a last look around the room, she headed into the hallway and walked quickly towards the exit. She needed to get out before she lost control.   
  
"Sara!"   
  
Grissom ignored the attention from the lab personnel as he hurried down the hallway, grateful he had caught her before she left. Grabbing her arm, he pulled her towards an empty lab.   
  
"Grissom, let me go," she whispered, afraid she wouldn't be able to prevent another outburst in front of an audience.   
  
Releasing her before they reached the room, he stepped closer, trying to give them a sense of privacy. His heart was beating nervously; he could tell Sara didn't want to be here with him. Had he frightened her again? He tried to lower his voice to calm her.   
  
"I'm sorry, Sara. Please, don't go."   
  
"I have to leave, Grissom. I … I can't stay," she said, taking a step away from him, feeling her control slipping.   
  
"You weren't going to tell me? You were just going to leave me?"   
  
Sara blinked back tears when she saw the pain in his eyes. "Grissom, I left a note …"   
  
"A note? That's it? That's all?" he interrupted.   
  
"Grissom, please, don't," she said, casting a nervous glance around. This was attracting too much attention. She could feel the panic rising.   
  
"Sara, I'm trying. You have to give me more time, that's all. Please," he asked, stepping closer to her.   
  
Her tears were flowing freely as Sara realized that she had hurt him again. She wanted to reassure him, but right now she couldn't calm herself. There was too much scrunity; she doubted the others could hear them, but it was too unnerving being watched.   
  
"Grissom, everybody's looking at us. I don't want to talk about this. Just read the note."   
  
"I don't want to read a note. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me why you're leaving me," Grissom pleaded.   
  
"I just have to get away. I need to get away. It's all too much," she choked out through her tears.   
  
"Too much? It's all too much for you? You think you're the only one suffering here? I've done everything I could think of. I've risked everything for you."   
  
"God, Grissom, I know that. Please, just don't do this," she said urgently.   
  
"What more do I have to do to prove myself to you? I've given you everything I have, Sara. I've given up my privacy, my pride, maybe even my job. If that's not enough for you, I don't know what more I can do."   
  
"Please, stop," Sara whispered, glancing around to see the confused looks being directed their way. If she didn't leave soon, she was afraid of what would happen.   
  
Grissom saw her look; she didn't want to be seen with him. He took another step closer, his exhaustion and fear overriding his common sense. Had he been wrong all along? Were all of his sacrifices for nothing?   
  
"You don't care, do you? What this is doing to me? What this has cost me?" he asked painfully.   
  
"If that's what you really think, you should be glad I'm leaving," Sara said, bolting past him and slamming open the door to the parking lot.   
  
Grissom leaned against the wall, struggling to remain calm. The raw pain in her voice had been impossible to ignore. Steeling himself for the audience, he turned and walked slowly back to his office. 


	39. Ch 39

Chapter 39  
  
The evidence was directly in front of him, but Grissom couldn't wrap his mind around it. A request for a leave-of-absence, duly signed by the sheriff. Carvallo's authorization to hire a temporary replacement along with some extra interns. An envelope with his name neatly printed on it.   
  
He couldn't believe Sara had left; he didn't want to believe it. How could she leave him, after he had exposed himself like that? Had he scared her off? He knew she didn't totally trust him, not after the way he had treated her over the past year, but he had thought things had improved between them. He must have been wrong if all she left was a note.   
  
His eyes darted back to the desk.   
  
The envelope was thicker than he had anticipated. It had to contain several sheets of paper – more of a letter than a note. After several false starts, Grissom gingerly picked it up and turned it over a few times before tapping it against the desk top.   
  
It was sealed, he noticed. Sara must not have wanted anyone to know what was in it. She liked to keep things private. Which is probably why she didn't want to discuss her leaving in the hallway, he told himself.   
  
Letting out a sigh, Grissom angrily tossed the envelope into the trashcan.   
  
What did it matter what it said? She'd left him. Nothing he'd done had been good enough for her. She hadn't even been planning on telling him. Instead, she had been content to slither away without so much as a good-bye while he was out of town.   
  
That wasn't like Sara at all, he told himself.   
  
Ignoring those thoughts, he turned back to the paperwork. Right now, work was the only thing he had. Thanks to her, he wasn't even sure about that. If the rumor mill spread that he had sought out a psychologist's help, it would only be a matter of time before a defense attorney found out. Grissom thought it probably could be explained to a jury, but it did nothing to help his professional standing.   
  
He picked up the authorization form. The interns started next week. They were never a big help, but they did free CSIs from some of the grunt work. Carvallo had already approved hiring some extra ones, since the staff was stretched covering for Sara.   
  
It would take a little while to find her replacement, but it shouldn't be hard to do. The lab was one of the best in the country and received more than 2,000 applications a year. There would be plenty of qualified applicants grateful to take on a temporary position, especially one that had the potential to become permanent.   
  
Or would it?   
  
His eyes found the leave-of-absence request. Four months, that's all. Sara had only asked for four months off.   
  
When she threatened to leave before, she said it would be for six months, maybe even a year.   
  
Was there a chance she would return? Kane had said she needed time away to consider her career options. Had she been planning on returning to Las Vegas? Would she still want to after that confrontation in the hallway?   
  
Grissom let out a long sigh. Why wouldn't she tell him what was wrong? He just needed to know. If it was something he had done wrong, he would have tried to fix it. She could have told him; he would have listened.   
  
Like he did such a good job earlier in the hallway, he told himself.   
  
Yawning, he pushed away those thoughts. The past was the past; there was no way to change what had happened. He couldn't worry about it now. If nothing else, the lab needed him. At least he knew where he stood with work.   
  
Things would be hectic tonight. He would have to tell the team Sara had left, assuming they didn't already know. News traveled fast. They would be distracted and could use extra direction. He was exhausted and needed to sleep if he was to have any chance of functioning himself.   
  
Leaning back in his chair wearily, he scanned his office. So much of his life could be summed up by its contents. It was then that he spotted the splash of purple plush. It had to be one of the ugliest things he'd ever seen. Walking over the shelf, he pulled down the stuffed bear Sara had given him the night of the accident. Why had she insisted he take the thing? He hadn't even bothered to ask why she wanted him to have it.   
  
Grissom turned the bear over in his hands while walking back to the trashcan. Letting out a snort, he threw it away. It was loud, ugly and obnoxious – nothing like Sara. Why would he want to keep that memento? It wasn't like she cared.   
  
'If that's what you really think, you should be glad I'm leaving.'   
  
Grissom ran a weary hand across his face. He wasn't glad. This was probably his fault, but he didn't know where he went wrong. More importantly, he didn't know why he had bothered.   
  
Flipping out the light switch, he moved to close the office door, but paused. After a moment, he slipped his jacket off and went to fish the bear out of the trash. Grissom carefully wrapped the toy in his jacket, not wanting to imagine what kind of rumors would start if he was spotted wandering the hallways with a stuffed animal, especially one that sang off-key.   
  
It wasn't much, but it was all he had left of Sara. Sighing sadly, he turned to leave, but paused again. As an afterthought, he slipped her letter into his pocket before heading back home.   
  
~~~~   
  
"Sara's taken a four-month leave-of-absence. I don't know whether she'll be back at the end of that time or not."   
  
Grissom stated the facts succinctly, trying not to watch his team members. It was obvious that they knew something was wrong when he walked into the break room later that evening. Catherine seemed on the verge of tears, Nick wouldn't look at him and Warrick just stared at the tabletop.   
  
"Look, I know we're all pulling overtime. I know you're … upset. But we need to keep focused. We still have a job to do. We're short a person. We're looking for a replacement, but it'll take some time to go through the interviews."   
  
He tried to keep his voice calm, wondering why his words were bothering him. It certainly caused the others to look at him like he'd grown an extra head.   
  
Then it dawned on him. That speech sounded eerily similar to the one he'd given when Holly Gribbs had been shot. The same speech he used to announce he had asked Sara to come to Las Vegas to investigate. It hadn't been intentional, but it must have seemed cold.   
  
In a perverse way, it fit. Holly had died; his relationship with Sara was dead. Of course, Holly had died quickly. Sara had arrived in Vegas, happy and full of life. Dealing with him for three years had drained that from her. Maybe she was better off without him. If he couldn't even bring himself to read her letter, what could he realistically hope to offer her?   
  
Trying to ignore those thoughts, Grissom quickly handed out the night's assignments. The mixture of confusion, pity and worry emanating from the other CSIs was making him uncomfortable. As he passed each lab, he was subjected to another stare. At least no one seemed amused this evening, showing their self-preservation instincts were intact.   
  
He headed to the sanctuary of the garage. Quietly, he set up his experiment, balancing the bowling ball carefully on the board. It seemed unlikely the deceased had left a 16-pound object sitting on a closet shelf where it could roll off accidentally, but stranger things had happened.   
  
"Gil?"   
  
"I'm busy, Catherine," he sighed, knowing that it would only a matter time before she butted in.   
  
"Don't do this," she said softly.   
  
"It's my job." His response was deliberately cold. He hoped she would take the hint to leave him alone.   
  
"You know what I mean. Don't shut us out. We want to help."   
  
"Catherine, I think it's safe to say you've helped enough," he said more sharply than he had intended.   
  
"I'm sorry," she answered contritely.   
  
"So am I," Grissom said softly, letting out a sigh. The others had been looking after Sara; he shouldn't blame them, but right now he didn't want to deal with the emotional fallout. "Excuse me, I have work to do."   
  
"Gil, this isn't what Sara wanted. She was afraid you'd run back to your own private world."   
  
"You knew?" Grissom exclaimed sharply, whirling around to face her. "You knew Sara was leaving and you didn't tell me? God, Catherine, why the hell not?"   
  
"I didn't know," she said, holding out her hands as she stepped back from the angry man. "Not for sure, anyway. I suspected. Sara mentioned she wasn't sure if she'd been able to return to the job. I think she was considering going back to grad school."   
  
"Then how do you know this isn't 'what she wanted'?" he asked sarcastically.   
  
"She left letters for us. The team, Greg, Doc, David. Don't know who else. She asked me to look out for you. Sara was afraid this would hurt you."   
  
"Imagine that," he snorted.   
  
"Gil, she needs to get herself together. Didn't she explain it you? I heard you, uhm, talked to her earlier."   
  
He turned to glare at her. "No, Catherine, she didn't explain it to me. She just left."   
  
She cocked her head in surprise. It seemed odd that Sara would have left without telling him her reasons.   
  
"Look, I don't know what's going on. All I know is that she was worried about you. That she wanted to make sure you were okay until she got back. Gil, remember what I told you before: Sara just needs time."   
  
He sat down slowly on the bench, trying to understand what she was telling him. Sara had been planning on returning? She was worried about him? Or was it something she had told Catherine to appease him?   
  
"I'm sorry. Look, come talk to me when you're ready, okay? I've got to get to my case, but later, we'll grab something to drink. Gil?"   
  
"Go ahead, Catherine. Don't keep Brass waiting."   
  
~~~~~   
  
"Grissom," he answered groggily. Turning over, he saw it was 10:17 a.m. Thirty-two minutes since he headed to bed.   
  
"Good morning, Gil. I hope I didn't wake you."   
  
"Philip? What's wrong?" Grissom asked, yawning deeply. He was exhausted; talking to the overly-friendly psychologist wasn't an appealing idea.   
  
"I was going to ask you the same thing. You didn't make your appointment, and you didn't call to cancel."   
  
He groaned as he rolled onto his back. Did Kane honestly think he'd continue the sessions now? There wasn't any reason to continue to expose himself. "What's the point, Philip? Sara left."   
  
"You make it sound like that's a permanent situation."   
  
Grissom's eyes snapped open. "It's not?"   
  
"I take it you never read Sara's letter," Kane said evenly, waiting a moment to see if there would be a response. "Gil, go back to sleep. When you wake up, read the letter, then call me. I think you will find it very … edifying. I'll talk to you later."   
  
Grissom stared at the phone, feeling very much awake. 


	40. Ch 40

Chapter 40  
  
After a quick shower and some strong coffee, Grissom found himself staring at Sara's letter. He had leaned it against the plush bear, which was flanked by her plants on his dining room table. A humorless laugh escaped when he recognized he had made a make-shift shrine to unrealistic expectations.   
  
Sipping his coffee, he turned his attention to the plants. She had never even bothered to repot them. They were probably root-bound by now. All it would have taken was a little attention, and they would have flourished.   
  
Grissom sighed at the rush of guilt. How much happier would Sara have been if he had bothered to show her some attention? Would she still have been here or would she have found another reason to leave him?   
  
He looked back at the letter.   
  
Kane's phone call had guaranteed he wouldn't be going back to sleep anytime soon, but he wasn't sure he wanted to read it. Apparently, it held the answers he wanted, but those answers could just as easily be bad.   
  
He'd already suffered through more pain than he imagined possible. Was there anything she could say that could ease it? Or would he be just setting himself up for more injuries?   
  
Deciding the uncertainty was worse, he took the letter over the couch, eventually slitting open the envelope and taking out the contents. The outer sheet was a list of contact information. At least she hadn't intended to hide from him.   
  
Feeling nervous, he turned his attention to her final words to him.   
  
"Hey Grissom,   
  
"There's a lot I need to tell you, but I'm not sure how to start. I'm pretty upset right now, but I'll try to explain everything coherently. Please be patient. Words aren't my strong suit, so don't expect Shakespeare.   
  
"First, I guess I should apologize for leaving a letter. So much happened after the last time we talked. The deposition lasted too long, or I would have gone to see you before you left. Not that it mattered, some of this happened while you were away.   
  
"I wanted to tell you this personally, but I can't stay in Las Vegas that long. I need to get away. I was afraid to call you. I think I would have just babbled, and I didn't want to worry you. Trust me, this isn't how I wanted to do this.   
  
"I'm sure you figured out the deposition bothered me. There's something that happened on the bus that I never told you. I'm sorry about that, but I was afraid of how you'd react. I know it's a stupid thing to be afraid of, but I haven't been able to shake it. Even Philip thinks I was crazy to worry over this. (That was a joke.)   
  
"The incident was enough for me to question whether I can return to the field. I guess I should apologize for not telling you that sooner. I've known for a while that I may never come back. Anyway, my self-confidence is pretty much shot right now. Philip tells me it'll get better, and I hope he's right. Until I know for sure, I won't go back to the field. I'm afraid I'll mess up.   
  
"Back to the deposition: It really got to me. I know, that's probably pretty obvious, but I never let you know just how much it was bothering me. It started the old problems up again. I can't stop shaking at times, and the nightmares have gotten worse.   
  
"You already know it made me lose my self-control. I wish there was some way I could ease your pain. I swear, I never meant to let people know you were seeing Philip. God, Grissom, there is no way I can ever tell you how sorry I am for that. Please, if nothing else, believe me when I say I'd do anything to take that back.   
  
"I won't blame you if you never forgive me – it was unforgivable. If you can ever find it in your heart to do so, I promise, I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you.   
  
"What makes this so painful is I know how much you sacrificed by agreeing to go to therapy. There's no way I can describe the way it made me feel when Philip told me you were seeing him in order to help me. I know how hard it is to expose yourself to that type of scrutiny. I didn't have a choice. I had to go in order to get myself back together. But you didn't. You volunteered to go through that, for me.   
  
"If I hadn't already been in love with you, I think that would have cinched it.   
  
"Yeah, I really wrote that. I mean it.   
  
"I know I haven't given you any reason to believe it, with the way I've been treating you, but it is true. I wish I could have shown you how I feel.   
  
"It seems all I've been able to do is hurt you. It made me sick every time I saw the pain I caused you. I'm so sorry for that. I don't mean to do it, but it's not something I have any control over.   
  
"That's why I have to leave. I can't keep hurting you. It's gone beyond physical or emotional pain. I may have damaged your career. There was no excuse for my betraying your trust. Let me make it clear: That was my fault. Don't blame Cath, or the others. I did it, and I would do anything to change that.   
  
"If your seeing Philip gets out, we both know some attorney will try to destroy your credibility. I know your job is the most important thing in your life. I am so sorry that I may have taken that from you.   
  
"All I can do right now is take. I don't have anything to offer in return. I know you want to help, and I've been tempted. I can't tell you the number of times I found myself parked outside your townhouse after I'd have a nightmare. I just wanted to go in and ask you to hold me.   
  
"Honestly, I wouldn't have wanted to stop with just a hug. I do want you, but not that way. I would have been using you, Grissom, and that's something I'd never do. What I feel for you isn't something cheap. I'd never want to treat it that way.   
  
"Anyway, I need to get away, until I can get some sort of control over myself. I don't know how long that will take. There's too much for me to handle right now in Las Vegas. I can't stay there. Every time I see someone in the office, it just reminds me that I hurt you. I feel like everyone is watching me, waiting to see what dumb thing I'll do next. It's even to the point I couldn't stand to be in my own apartment. Too many bad memories.   
  
"I'm going back to Santa Barbara. Jimmy Kahill, my ex-advisor, offered me a job. It's not much. I'll be filling in for one of their research assistants who's going on sabbatical.   
  
"I think being away will help. I keep hurting you, and that messes me up even more. Does that make any sense? Please, don't blame yourself for any of this. You've been so wonderful. I know you are trying, and that means a lot to me.   
  
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid. I am. One thing that really scares me is you. It really hurt when you shut me out over the last year. I know now that it was because of your hearing, but I can't shake the thought that you'll do it again. That's my problem, not yours. I think it's because I'm not even sure about myself, so I can't trust others. Don't let that bother you. There's nothing else you could have possibly done.   
  
" I think that's what scares me the most. You've sacrificed so much already and have gotten nothing in return but pain. I'm afraid that one day you're going to realize that this has all been too much. That I'll have hurt you one too many times, and you'll decide I'm not worth the effort.   
  
"Grissom, I won't blame you if you do decide this is too hard. I don't know how long it will be before I can offer you anything in return. Don't feel obligated. This is your chance to get out. I honestly won't hold it against you. I'll always be grateful for what you have given me. I'd rather you back out now, rather than later. That would only hurt both of us more.   
  
"If you decide you want to drop this, then don't let this stop you from finding happiness somewhere else. I can only imagine how painful all this must have been for you, but it's my fault. You did nothing wrong. Don't close yourself back up again. There's plenty of stable women out there who would be glad to be with you.   
  
"I'll be staying with my parents for a couple of weeks before I head down to Santa Barbara. I'm not sure I can talk to you right now. I'm still a mess. I think I'd either scare you or hurt you. If you are still interested, then send me a note or a fax. I'll get back to you when I'm able to.   
  
"I meant what I said. If you want out, I'll understand. If you can give me some more time, I'll try to make this up to you. I really think we can be happy together, once I get myself straightened out.   
  
"I do love you, Grissom. Please, if nothing else, remember that. No matter what happens, I'll always be in your debt for all you've done for me. I hope you'll give me the chance to repay you some day.   
  
"Love,   
  
"Sara"   
  
Grissom re-read the letter twice. Instead of answering his questions, it left him feeling more confused. She said she loved him, but she was afraid of him. How could she feel both? Would she ever feel safe with him? Could he ever make her feel secure? What would he have to sacrifice to do so?   
  
Did he even want to try? She said she just needed time, but what if she never came to terms with this? Would she always be hurting him? How long would it be before something else triggered the desire to run away? He didn't think he could take that type of pain again.   
  
Sara had given him a way out. It probably would be better for both of them if he took it. She was young and full of life. Once she got over this, she'd have no trouble finding someone else who could give her what she wanted.   
  
But she said she wanted him. Even after reading that line multiple times, it still made Grissom's stomach quiver. Sara was so much younger, so beautiful and intelligent, and she wanted him – an out-of-shape, socially inept man nearly old enough to be her father. Why?   
  
Grissom took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. She said she loved him. Did she? Or was she trying to let him down gently? He shook his head softly. Sara was honest. No matter what else was going on in her life, that was one quality he doubted she'd ever lose.   
  
He knew he loved her, but the question remained: did he trust her? It wasn't her fault, but she hurt him on so many levels. There wasn't much he had left. His career could probably survive, but it was going to be a source of embarrassment for years.   
  
'I know your job is the most important thing in your life.'   
  
Grissom closed his eyes. The statement was perfectly true. In many ways, his job was his life. In hindsight, he decided it didn't say much for him. He was middle-aged and still alone. Despite what Sara said, he doubted there was anyone else who would ever put up with him.   
  
His choice was simple: either live alone or try again with Sara, but live in fear she would hurt him again. He couldn't decide which option seemed less desperate.   
  
Letting out a groan, he walked over to dump the remainder of his coffee, and started making a shopping list. On the way back from the grocery store, he'd run by the nursery and get some potting soil. The very least he could do was to keep his promise to Sara. If she ever came back, her plants would be waiting for her. 


	41. Ch 41

Chapter 41  
  
Sitting alone on the sand dune, Sara nursed her mug of tea, lost in her thoughts. This place had always been her personal childhood refuge, a place to escape to when things became too intense for her to deal with. It had never been a good sign when she came here, but for the past week it had become her home away from home.   
  
She turned briefly to look back at the large Victorian house overlooking the water and waved reassuringly. One, if not both, of her parents would be watching worriedly from an upper-story window. That thought brought a quick smile.   
  
They had been amazingly supportive, there when she needed a shoulder to cry on, or leaving her to her solitude when she needed time to think. They hadn't pushed to know what had gone wrong, but they had sensed something was amiss. Sara snorted; a blind man could have seen something was wrong.   
  
She had been a wreck, physically, mentally and emotionally, when she'd arrived. The stress of reliving the accident through the deposition had been bad enough. Knowing that she'd hurt Grissom again, probably beyond the point of repair, had made it worse.   
  
For the first few days, she'd rarely left her room, afraid of scaring the guests with one of her outbursts. She'd already ruined enough lives; she wouldn't do the same to her parents. Instead, she stayed in bed, sleeping occasionally between the nightmares. The only time she came downstairs was to check the mail.   
  
On the third day, her father had practically dragged her to the beach to join in the picnic dinner, coaxing her with promises of homemade ice cream if she behaved. The sheer comedic nature of his actions had broken some of the tension. He held her quietly while she cried and then composed herself, before they went to join the others.   
  
The next day, her parents had insisted she partake of some of the diversions available to the guests. Sara doubted there was any scientific validity to the aromatherapy, but she couldn't argue with the results of the daily massages.   
  
After two days of pampering, she'd rebelled and started helping her parents run the bed-and-breakfast. Even that had been relaxing, whether she was joking with her father as they re-tiled a bathroom or laughing at her mother's stories as they ordered supplies.   
  
Taking a deep breath of the salty air, she smiled again at the thought of her parents' concern. They had never coddled either of their children when they were growing up, proud of their self-reliance and independence. But ever since they came to visit her, Sara's parents seemed to relish in helping her. It was working; last night had been the third in a row without a nightmare.   
  
A cold breeze coming off of the water caused her to wrap her sweater tighter around herself. Sara smiled sadly as it reminded her of a conversation which had taken place shortly after she arrived in Las Vegas.   
  
Nick had just learned she'd grown up along the California coast and teased her for being a "year-round, bikini-wearing beach-bum". The look of confusion on his face when she broke into laughter, nearly choking on her soda, had been priceless.   
  
Finally, Grissom had to explain to Nick that the Pacific currents brought water down from the Arctic. Even at the end of the summer, Northern California's coastal waters rarely warmed above 60 degrees. The only attention bikini-wearers got around here regarded their sanity.   
  
She missed him.   
  
Sara closed her eyes as she felt the moisture forming. There had been too many tears already; she wasn't going to cry any more. It was time to move on. He had made his choice. No, she'd forced it on him, she told herself, wiping away the tears that were forming despite her best efforts.   
  
In hindsight, Sara wished she'd thought of flying to Denver to explain what had happened. She knew it would have scared him, showing up at his hotel room when she had been in that state-of-mind, but the results would have been better.   
  
Sipping her tea, she turned her attention back to the water, watching a Newfoundland puppy playing in the surf. She had forgotten how much she missed the ocean. The desert had its own beauty, but it was nothing compared to this. Las Vegas was loud and ugly, a neon scar on the Nevada landscape. It never really seemed like home.   
  
It never would be now.   
  
Sara let out a sad sigh. His expression when he talked to her in the hallway that last day should have been enough for her to know that he'd given up. She had hurt him one too many times. It hadn't been intentional. If she had stayed, she would have eventually hurt him some other way. They seemed doomed, no matter what she had done.   
  
Getting away from Las Vegas really had been the best decision for her, as far as her mental state went. She just wished the emotional cost hadn't been so high, for either of them. She hoped he was all right. He had been so angry, so hurt when they parted, but she'd been hopeful he'd give her another chance.   
  
For the first week after she left Nevada, she'd waited each day to see if a note from Grissom would arrive. Each evening, when it hadn't come, she'd went back to bed afraid she'd finally hurt him too deeply for him to forgive. Lying alone in her bed, she silently cried as she realized what she had lost.   
  
As the second week began, she worked at accepting that it was over. Every day after she finished helping her parents with the business, Sara headed to the dunes to think, trying to put everything into perspective and to shed her tears in private.   
  
It had been a little over two weeks since she'd left Nevada. Sara knew Grissom would need time to consider his options, but the prolonged silence had told her he had decided it was better to play it safe. In a way, she was glad; it would have been far more painful if he had played along out of sympathy, and then left after she was back to normal.   
  
She really couldn't blame him, not after what she'd put him through, but it was still painful. Hopefully, he'd be able to get over this. The thought that she may have scarred him was still unnerving. She'd never forgive herself he couldn't get over the pain she'd caused him.   
  
Sara shrugged. Right now, she had decisions to make, starting with her career. Originally, she had planned on returning to the lab, even if she decided not to go back into forensics. There were other positions where she could still help.   
  
The department's Public Affairs Office had offered her a position as an assistant director. Ironically, they thought she was the perfect person to deal with the press: she knew the material; years of testifying at trials had given her the ability to explain complex subjects in simple terms; she was articulate; and, they told her, the cameras loved her.   
  
It didn't sound like a thrilling job, but it was something. Since Grissom wouldn't have been her supervisor, she'd hoped that would take some of the pressures off of their relationship. If nothing else, it would have filled the time until she found a better job.   
  
Now, going back to Las Vegas was out of the question. Sara doubted she'd ever get over Grissom if they were in constant contact. Even if she could, it would have been cruel to him to watch her make a new life with someone else. She'd already hurt him too much.   
  
There was always grad school, but it didn't hold the same appeal it once did. She'd been out too long; she'd have to retake all the classes again. Even then, the job market for physicists wasn't great. A visit to her old friends in San Francisco revealed that she could always go back to work there.   
  
Her parents had even mentioned her taking over the bed-and-breakfast. That thought still made her smile. She didn't know if she'd turn it into a thriving franchise or bankrupt it first.   
  
Last night, she'd finally updated her resume. The temporary job in Santa Barbara would last four months and she wanted to have a new job lined up before then. She'd need to contact Grissom and let him know to hire a permanent replacement.   
  
Sara closed her eyes again. She'd need to go back at least once to say good-bye to the team. A wave of guilt washed over her; she hadn't even contacted anyone to let them know she was all right. She'd send an e-mail once she got settled in Santa Barbara.   
  
Lost in her thoughts, she didn't see the black blur approaching rapidly.   
  
"Roxie!" Sara yelled as the puppy decided to rid itself of the cold water soaking its fur. Laughing, she reached over to pull the Newfoundland into a hug. "Stupid mutt. Let's get inside before I freeze."   
  
Walking back to the house, she amused herself watching the puppy's antics. Roxie had been one of the best stress releases over the past two weeks, from amusing her with games, to curling up beside her at night. She'd miss the mutt when she left.   
  
Her parents had found the stray right after they returned from Las Vegas and had quickly adopted her as a surrogate child. Watching them, Sara had been struck by the realization that they would make wonderful grandparents.   
  
That thought had completely surprised her. She'd never given much thought to a family before, beyond the recognition that her rare periods of sexual activity carried the chance of an accidental pregnancy.   
  
Sara had been saddened when she realized that none of her prior relationships had ever lasted long enough or had gotten serious enough for the topic to even be discussed. Most of her friends her age had already started their families, or reached the decision not to start one. For her, it was something that she never had to consider.   
  
She didn't even know if she wanted children, but she did know she wanted to at least have the option. Her past personal life hadn't been the greatest. At the very least, she intended not to make the same mistakes of burying herself in her new job. She was going to have a life outside of work from now on.   
  
Letting out a sigh, she started to make a mental outline of her resignation letter to Grissom, wondering if she would ever really get over him.   
  
~~~~   
  
"Do you think he's okay?" Nick asked softly over breakfast.   
  
"What do you think, Nick?" Catherine answered shortly.   
  
"Should we talk to him?"   
  
"No."   
  
Both turned to look at Warrick expectantly.   
  
"He's been through enough, already. You know Griss. He's not cool talking about his private life. It's all over the lab now. Give him some time to regroup."   
  
"Retreat, you mean," Catherine snorted.   
  
"Whatever. He has to deal with this his way. If the only way he can do that is retreating, then that's what he has to do. We may not like it, but it's his decision."   
  
Nick and Catherine exchanged shrugs. Since the fight with Sara, neither had been comfortable talking with Grissom. He didn't act like he blamed them for forcing Sara's revelation, but they still felt guilty about it.   
  
Finishing her coffee, Catherine tossed her tip on the table. "See you guys tonight."   
  
Instead of heading home, she went back to the lab. As she suspected, Grissom was still in his office, tackling a stack of paperwork. He'd always been a workaholic, but since Sara left, he'd rarely went back to his townhouse.   
  
"Gil, why don't you head home, get some rest? That'll still be here tonight."   
  
"And there'll be more paperwork to do then and more cases to cover," he said without looking up.   
  
"Look, the interns are here. The new guy starts tonight. I'll handle showing them the ropes. Why don't you cut out of here, take some vacation? You're going to burn out if you don't do something soon."   
  
Grissom paused to take his glasses off and rub his eyes wearily. "I might do that," he said eventually.   
  
"Good. You could use a break," she said softly. "Do you know what you're going to do?"   
  
Knowing she wasn't talking about vacation plans, he considered his response carefully. He finally turned to give her a cryptic look.   
  
"I'm taking your advice. I'm not going to let this consume me," he said before turning back to his paperwork.   
  
"Okay. See you later, Gil. Call me if you need anything," she said sadly, recalling the conversation at this townhouse. He'd decided to move on. Catherine paused to look back again. If she didn't know better, she'd have sworn a small smile had crossed his face.   
  
~~~~   
  
Entering the house, Sara noticed the odd looks her parents were giving her. At first, she thought it was because she was wet and sand-covered, but then her mother held up a FedEx envelope.   
  
Taking it, she walked slowly up to her room. She was freezing, but that didn't explain all her shaking. After stripping off the wet clothes and tossing on a robe, she went over to the window seat. She felt her confusion rising as she emptied it. The only thing inside was one of the small, yellow paper evidence envelopes they had used in the lab. It was stiff.   
  
Turning it over, a business card fluttered out. Underneath Grissom's office phone number, the word 'over' had been printed. On the back, he'd neatly listed his home phone, cell and pager numbers, along with his personal e-mail address. He'd even laminated the card.   
  
Sara smiled as she looked back inside the small envelope. It had been filled with pre-paid long distance phone cards. 


	42. Ch 42

Ch. 42  
  
Sara scanned the files in full investigative mode, knowing the answer would be in there somewhere. As she waited for the next page to load, she considered sending Grissom another e-mail message. Since he'd yet to respond to her earlier ones, she decided against it.  
  
She let out a rueful sigh. After waiting all that time for some sort of message from him, she'd found herself hesitant to call him after his package arrived. Partially, Sara was nervous that she wasn't ready to talk to him yet, and would lose some of her hard-won emotional control. Falling apart during a phone conversation wouldn't have been a great way to renew their contact.  
  
On top of that, she had worried about how long it had taken him to contact her. He hadn't completely retreated that time, but how would he react the next time she hurt him? At that point, Sara knew she still didn't have complete mastery over herself, and was bound to slip up and hurt him again. Would he come back again?  
  
Despite her fears, Sara hadn't given up hope. Not answering him would have been deliberately hurtful, and that was something she wouldn't do. Finally, later that evening, she called dispatch. He had taken the night off, probably hoping she'd call him at home.  
  
Feeling a bit cowardly, she called his office number and left a message for him on his voicemail.  
  
"Hey Grissom. Got your package. Thanks. Hope you're doing okay. I'm heading down to Santa Barbara in the morning. I'll give you a call later, once I get settled. I miss you."  
  
The next night, after she finished unpacking, she called dispatch again, this time learning he was at a crime scene. Sara left the next message on his home answering machine.  
  
"Hey again. Just got unpacked. Don't know what my office phone number or e-mail will be yet, but I'll let you know once I find out. Talk to you later."  
  
She'd immediately called back and let him know her new cell phone number. For the rest of the weekend, she deliberately continued to play phone tag, letting her voicemail handle all her calls. Grissom's responses had been equally banal and polite.  
  
Feeling disgusted with herself, she finally broke down and sent him an e-mail message on Monday morning. It wasn't a direct conversation, so she didn't worry about losing control, and it was better than leaving inane phone messages.  
  
"Hey,  
  
"Miss you.  
  
"Things are okay here. Had a good time with my folks. Really helped me to relax, get myself together. I think I should have taken that vacation offer sooner. Live and learn.  
  
"Sorry I haven't been more talkative. Guess I'm nervous. Don't want to freak on you. I've been pretty calm lately, but with my luck, I'd lose it in the middle of telling you I'm all right.  
  
"Don't mean to be evasive, but don't want to make you nervous.  
  
"I'm sorry about how we parted. I didn't mean to hurt you.  
  
"Bye."  
  
Grissom's response had been reassuring. He hadn't pressed for any further explanations, and they continued a light conversation for the next week. Then on Monday, Sara received an auto-response that he was out of the office. A message to his personal account yielded a similar message.  
  
It hadn't really surprised her. Every year, he looked forward to his entomology conference and he'd cut it short to check up on her. Sara decided he probably caught another one that was being held in Tacoma.  
  
"Heard from your bug guy yet?"  
  
Sara smiled as Jimmy Kahill hopped up on her desk, his legs swinging wildly. He had always been able to wheedle personal information out of her and was a self-appointed guardian.  
  
"Nope. And you're corrupted."  
  
"Corrupted or corrupting?"  
  
"Both. Your data files are corrupted, Jimmy. That's why your model crashed," she said, pointing out the offending computer file.  
  
"Sweet! Great timing. The receptionist just called. You have a visitor. A Francesco Redi. Another friend?" he asked, putting a teasing quality on the last word.  
  
"Francesco Redi? He's a 17th century scientist."  
  
"A very old friend," he replied, pulling her up from her chair. "Don't keep him waiting."  
  
"It must be Greg," Sara said with a surprised smile. "He's always leaving pages from historical scientists."  
  
"Greg? Crazy one? Wears latex? Couldn't take a hint?" Cahill wrapped his arm around her as they headed to the reception area.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"I want to met him. You go ahead and cut out early. You saved the rest of us a bunch of work. Make him take you somewhere nice. Toscani's is a good choice," Kahill said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
"Jimmy!"  
  
Sara's laughter died when she saw Grissom watching her from across the lobby.  
  
~~~~  
  
Wondering if she would be upset at him for coming, Grissom was nervously flipping through flyers on the bulletin board when he heard her laughter. It caught him by surprise; it was genuine and something he hadn't heard in too long. A wave of anger washed over him when he looked up to see her in another man's arms.  
  
He'd felt her messages had been distant and worried that he had waited too long to contact her. His anger turned to sadness as he decided she must have moved on. He automatically returned the other man's greeting after Sara introduced them, not caring if he was being terse.  
  
After Kahill left, Grissom watched Sara carefully. She was beautiful. Leaving Las Vegas really had been good for her; she seemed happier, more relaxed than she had been in long time.  
  
"Want to grab something to eat?" he asked softly.  
  
Sara regarded him calmly. "Okay. Can I change first?"  
  
"Sure. I'll follow you back to your apartment."  
  
"Actually, I walk to work. Want to give me a lift?"  
  
He nodded and escorted her to his rental car. She gave him the directions and he pulled away quietly.  
  
"Why are you here, Grissom?" Sara asked cautiously.  
  
"I was visiting my mother."  
  
"She's a student here?"  
  
"No. She runs an art gallery in Venice Beach."  
  
"That's not exactly in the neighborhood."  
  
"My return flight leaves from the Santa Barbara airport later tonight."  
  
"Couldn't get a flight out of LA?"  
  
"I wanted to see you," he said softly. "I needed to know if you … if I was too late, if you gave up on me. You seem to be awfully close to your new boss," he added quickly, hoping it didn't sound as vindictive as he thought.  
  
Sara turned to stare at him in astonishment. He really was jealous? She thought she'd imagined it in the lobby. He actually thought she'd be able to get over him that quickly? Her anger died quickly when she saw the pain in his eyes. He really did expect her to agree. Who had hurt him like that?  
  
"Jimmy and I have always been friends. We have a lot in common. We look for the same qualities in those we want to be involved with. Honesty. Trust. Intelligence. Humor," she turned to give him a pointed look. "Y-chromosomes."  
  
"He's … you're not …"  
  
"Let's just say you're more his type than I am."  
  
Grissom had the grace to blush. "Sorry. I really thought you'd given up on me."  
  
"Know the feeling," she said, pointing out where he needed to turn to reach her apartment's parking lot.  
  
"Sorry. Again."  
  
"Don't be, Grissom. I told you before, none of this is your fault. Come on in," she said.  
  
He stared in shock when she opened the door to her apartment. 'Cell' would have been a better description. Technically, it was a studio apartment, but the entire thing was smaller than Grissom's living room. A tiny kitchenette took the corner next to the door. A folding card table, a futon, TV stand and computer desk nearly filled the main area. Two doors at the opposite end of the room apparently led to a closet and the bathroom.  
  
Sara laughed humorlessly when she saw his reaction.  
  
"Cozy, isn't it? Deliberate. I don't want to feel comfortable here. Make myself go out in the evenings with friends. Have to get a life somehow. Plus, the rent on this is higher than what I paid for my apartment in Vegas, and I'm not making nearly as much. Don't want to run through all my savings."  
  
"If money's a problem, your insurance …"  
  
"I'm not going on disability!" Sara said hotly.  
  
"Okay, just pointing out it was there. Where do you want to go to eat?"  
  
"Honestly, I'm not that hungry. Can we talk for a while first?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Sara waved him in the general direction of the futon. After taking a seat, Grissom waited patiently for her to speak. He could tell she was nervous, as she fiddled with a recent photo of her holding a puppy. "Are you angry with me?"  
  
"No," she whispered.  
  
"What's wrong then?" he urged gently.  
  
"I'm afraid."  
  
"Of me?"  
  
"No," she said kindly, wrapping her arms around herself nervously. She'd decided it was time to finally come clean about what had happened on the bus and see what his reaction was.  
  
"I … on the bus," she began hesitantly.  
  
"Sara, if you're not ready, you don't have to tell me," he said gently.  
  
"Yes, I do. I told you it was dumb, but I'm afraid of how you'll react. Please, be honest. I need to know how you really feel about this. I … we … until I know for sure, I won't be able to go forward. I'll always wonder … it's … damn. I'm sorry. This is harder than I thought it would be."  
  
Grissom slowly got up from the futon, waiting to see if she'd object to his moving closer. She didn't seem to notice him at all, as she wiped away her tears.  
  
"That little boy, Grissom. He was still alive. I was holding him, and telling him he'd be okay. God. He was crying, and I had no idea what do to. He was pinned, I couldn't move him. All I could do was hold him, and promise I'd help him."  
  
Sara started pacing the small space, trying to keep her voice calm.  
  
"He told me he was sorry. God, Grissom, he was dying and he apologized to me. He … I … that's when Teresa started to cry. I found her under a seat. She was crying and hurt and I could help her. I … there were flames in the truck. I could smell the diesel. The smoke ….Damn."  
  
Grissom moved closer as Sara headed to the small stove. "Want some tea? I don't have any coffee. I think I need some," she said, her voice cracking as she put a pot of water on to boil.  
  
"I left him, Grissom" she whispered harshly. "I just left him. I never checked his pulse. I don't know if he was dead or not. God, how could I do that? I … I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to screw up. I …"  
  
He closed the distance between them quickly, pulling her into a hug. "Sssshhh, sweetheart, don't do this to yourself. There was nothing you could have done."  
  
She wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his shoulder. He reached up to brush a lock of hair out of her face, kissing her forehead tenderly.  
  
"God, he thought I was his mother. He called me 'Mommy'. Do you know what it felt like, knowing that's probably the only time I'd be called that? And I left him," she sobbed.  
  
Grissom pulled Sara closer to his body, whispering gentle endearments to her. Pulling back slightly, he reached a hand up to tenderly wipe away her tears, smiling gently.  
  
"Thanks," she whispered sadly, trying to return his smile, but failing.  
  
He reached up again, this time tilting her head as he leaned in to kiss her softly. 


	43. Ch 43

Ch. 43  
  
A smile crossed Sara's face as she watched Grissom sleeping contently beside her. She resisted the urge to run her fingers through his hair, in case he was a light sleeper, settling instead to lazily trace patterns across his chest.  
  
Her smile took on a satisfied air as she stretched salaciously. For a social recluse, he had been surprisingly talented. Not that she was going to complain about the outcome. 'Still waters run deep', she thought, shaking her head slightly in amusement.  
  
Flights of fantasy had never been Sara's style. While the other schoolgirls imagined their perfect mate and their perfect weddings, she'd sit alone and work the unassigned math problems. She may have wondered if Grissom would ever be her lover, but she'd never daydreamed that their first encounter would resemble a scene from some old romantic movie.  
  
But she never would have guessed it would start out like a Keystone Kops routine, either. She chuckled softly at the memories, wondering if Grissom felt the same way. Considering the male ego, she doubted he would see the humor as various objects conspired to keep them apart. Then again, he'd already surprised her a number of times.  
  
Resting her head against his chest, she let out a soft sigh. After worrying about how he would react to what had happened on the bus, the amount of love he'd shown her had nearly been overwhelming.  
  
Grissom's first kiss, she remembered, had been incredibly soft, incredibly tender and incredibly unexpected. Sara pulled back in shock once her brain successfully identified who and what had triggered that new source of pleasure.  
  
He stepped back in panic, mumbling an apology. Seeing the hurt and fear in his eyes, she quickly closed the gap between them, moving to kiss him reassuringly. That time Grissom had been the one caught by surprise and broke the kiss.  
  
Sara stayed close, though, and they watched each other carefully, silently questioning each other. The third kiss was hesitant and brief, but it was mutual.  
  
After a long moment of locked gazes, they moved in for kiss number four, a gentle brushing of lips. Kiss five, which followed immediately, was just as soft, and lasted a bit longer than its predecessor.  
  
Leaning back, they had smiled before moving in again. Kiss six found Sara running her fingers through his curls, pulling his head in closer as his hands began roving across her back. As their confidence grew, so did the intensity, and kisses seven through 10 became progressively more passionate.  
  
On kiss number 11, Sara opened her mouth, allowing Grissom's tongue to begin a gentle exploration. By kiss 12, she was certain his pulse was above his normal rate of 70 beats a minute.  
  
Then the forgotten pot of water began to boil over.  
  
Swearing under her breath, Sara turned off the burner, grabbed the offending pan and tossed it into the sink. Her jerky motions caused a bit of the hot water to splash on her hand. She ignored it, but before she could turn back to Grissom, he stepped up behind her, pinning her between the sink and his body.  
  
Wrapping his arms around her, he turned on the faucet, and gently held her hand under the cold water, carefully turning it, inspecting for any additional injuries. Sara closed her eyes as the cold water on her hand and his warmth behind her sent her mind mixed signals.  
  
She couldn't believe this was happening. Part of her feared he would react with disgust when she told him she'd left Hunter on the bus. His compassion and gentleness quickly dispelled that idea. She took a ragged breath as he pressed closer against her.  
  
Gingerly, he took a dishtowel and dried her hand. Turning her around, he wet the towel and washed away the remains of her tears before leaning in to brush soft kisses across her face.  
  
Moving his attention back to her hand, he lifted it to his lips, gently kissing around the tender areas. Flipping it over, he lightly ran his thumb over the faint scar left by the lab explosion, before raining tender kisses along the imperfection.  
  
Letting out a soft moan, Sara had buried her face in his neck, nuzzling him while her free hand ran up and down his back. Grissom had let go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her body tight against his.  
  
When the hug ended, he leaned back, watching her keenly as his hands brushed stray locks of hair from her face. Both were breathing heavily, knowing a moment of truth was approaching. Unable to bear the intensity of his gaze, Sara stepped away and crossed the room.  
  
Grissom's look of confusion and disappointment morphed to curiosity when she turned her attention to the futon. When it refused to unfold, a she gave the frame a swift kick, solving that problem. She looked up, blushing slightly and nodding in the direction of the makeshift bed.  
  
He joined her quickly, pulling her in for another deep kiss as she began to unbutton his shirt. Luckily, she thought to ask then if he had any protection. Sheepishly, he admitted he didn't, causing Sara to stare at him in disbelief. Shaking her head, she moved to the bathroom, frantically searching for the box of condoms she always kept on hand out of a general sense of preparedness.  
  
Moving back into the main living area, she found him staring at the floor, but he lifted his face when she approached. Cradling her face gently, he looked at her questioningly, verifying she wanted to continue. Her determined kiss settled the question.  
  
Looking at the futon warily, he gently laid her down, kissing her deeply, but pulling her hands away when she began to explore his body. Smiling gently, he told her to be patient and rested her hands back on the pillows. He then approached their lovemaking much the way he did a crime scene - slow, thorough and completely in control.  
  
He removed her clothes in an unhurried manner, pausing occasionally to turn his attention back to her lips. As each new area of skin became exposed, he began his examination, first visually, then with gentle caresses from his fingers, then progressing to his lips and tongue.  
  
Grissom had carefully avoided the more sensitive erogenous zones, building her arousal slowly. Whenever a moan escaped from Sara, he'd focus his attention back to the area under consideration, experimenting with slightly more or less pressure, gauging her reactions to the various stimuli.  
  
Once she was completely nude, he let his eyes travel reverently over her entire form as he stripped off his own clothes. Grissom moved on top of her, enjoying the feel of their skin pressing against each other. After a series of passionate kisses, he began working his way back down her body, this time focusing on the most sensitive areas.  
  
Using his fingers and mouth, he brought her to two climaxes before kissing and caressing his way back up her body. Resting his weight on his arms, he kissed her gently as the last waves of pleasure racked her body.  
  
Sara let out another contented sigh as she recalled the open look of admiration and love in his eyes as he'd waited for her to catch her breath. Grissom was normally so private, but he bared his soul earlier that night. It seemed he had been determined to use their lovemaking to show her everything that that he had trouble telling her.  
  
And it had been lovemaking. His tenderness had been a pleasant surprise, and what she needed that evening. After her first climax, she'd been happy that he'd placed so much emphasis on her pleasure, but when he continued his ministrations, she'd been ecstatic, in more ways than one. It showed a depth of emotion many thought he was incapable of.  
  
As she'd recovered, Sara began her own exploration of his body, determined to give him the same consideration. But when she began running her hands along his length, Grissom had shuddered softly. Settling between her thighs, slowly entering her. Kissing the sensitive hollow of her neck, he kept his strokes slow and short, giving her time to adjust to him.  
  
Once he was fully inside, Sara smiled encouragingly, lifting her hips to match his thrusts. Running her hands across his back, she trailed kisses across his neck, matching him as he gradually increased the tempo. When he brought her to another climax, she nipped the flesh along his shoulder. As the last waves washed over her, she continued caressing and nuzzling Grissom until his own release overtook him.  
  
Afterwards, they lay in each other arms, sharing gentle kisses and caresses as they waited for their heart and breathing rates to return to normal. After a long time of silently cuddling, he pulled her closer and broached the subject of the bus.  
  
Stroking her back reassuringly, he told her there had been nothing else she could have done, that she had saved the other children, that she shouldn't blame herself for anything that had happened. While she explained that her confidence had been broken, Grissom whispered gentle encouragements, telling her it would take time and not to rush it.  
  
Later, after she'd shed the last of her tears, he drifted off to sleep. Sara had been watching him since, content to just enjoy the feel of his body next to hers. She moved her eyes over his exposed flesh, memorizing the way he looked. Sleep had removed the stress from his features; he seemed more serene than she had ever seen him.  
  
She had deliberately fought off sleep. He needed to get back to Las Vegas. It took time for a new CSI to be broken in, and the lab was stilling running short-handed because of her absence. She wasn't going to compound that by making him miss his flight, and she certainly had no desire to leave the warm cocoon of sheets to go set the alarm clock.  
  
Nightmares were another concern. They were still making occasional appearances and she didn't want to take a chance of marring the memory of this evening with one.  
  
Tonight had been beautiful. She didn't know if it had been a good idea, though.  
  
He had been amazing, on many different levels, through all of this. In spite of everything, he had stayed by her side, even coming back after she would hurt him. She didn't know if it was a fluke or a side of himself that he carefully hid. Hopefully, there would be time in the future to find out.  
  
Sighing softly, she turned her attention back to Grissom. Temptation finally won over, and she ran her fingers through his curls, causing him to stir, confirming he was a light sleeper. His hair was grayer than she remembered. Sara couldn't help wondering how many of those gray hairs she'd given him, nor worrying about how many more she'd cause.  
  
She knew she still needed time to get herself completely together, and she wouldn't be returning to Nevada anytime soon. Sara had been serious in her letter; her emotional state was still precarious. Rushing into a relationship now could be dangerous. She didn't want to hurt him again.  
  
Their lovemaking had been gratifying, but a part of her felt it had been selfish on her part. She didn't know how long she'd have to keep him waiting before she would be able to gain enough stability so she wouldn't cause him any more pain. Running her fingers softly along his cheek, she hoped he'd be willing to wait.  
  
With a flush of guilt, she decided not to worry about it right now. She was going to accept tonight for what it was: a beautiful experience that she'd never forget. There would be time later to deal with the emotional ramifications. She wanted to repay Grissom some of the emotional gratification he'd given her before he left for Las Vegas.  
  
Sara turned to look at the clock. He wouldn't have to leave for the airport for almost two hours. She smiled as she pulled back the covers and straddled his body. Leaning forward, she began kissing his lips softly, urging him to awaken. They had plenty of time left for one more good-bye. 


	44. Ch 44

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 44  
  
Sara hunkered further down in her chair, hoping the fool approaching her position could take a hint. Tonight's talk was just a preliminary one, and there weren't many people in the auditorium. She'd deliberately taken a seat in the middle of a side aisle so she could be alone.   
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she could make out a pair of blue jeans heading in her direction. Burying her head back in the book on American Sign Language, she wondered if this guy would leave her alone if she pretended to be deaf.   
  
Closing her eyes, she tried to recall the exact motions again. It had been four days since Grissom had left. A bemused smirk formed as she recalled his reaction to her wake up call. From his expression, she gathered he thought it had all been a rather pleasant dream.   
  
Later, while he'd grabbed a quick shower, she'd thrown together some sandwiches for an impromptu dinner, sorry she didn't have anything better to offer. They ate in silence, but exchanged bashful smiles throughout the meal. When the time came for him to finally leave, she could tell he was struggling to find something to say.   
  
"There's nothing you can say that could make tonight any more perfect," she told him, hushing him with a gentle kiss. He'd given her a grateful smile, then pulled her in for a last, passionate kiss. Stopping at her door, a twinkle in his eye, he quickly signed a parting message before leaving.   
  
Now her curiosity had won out, and she wanted to know what he had said. Translating sign language was proving harder than she thought it would be. Sara thought the first part was "good-night", but she was certain he'd repeated that motion.   
  
Deciding this was hopeless, Sara made a note to just ask Grissom what he'd signed the next time she called him. Unfortunately, they hadn't had much time to talk, as he'd been busy at work, catching up on all the paperwork that had accumulated while he was on vacation.   
  
Stifling a groan, she lifted the book to cover her face as the blue jeans took a seat directly next to her. Jimmy had discreetly directed attention from the other staff members away from her, understanding she wasn't looking for a companion. That hadn't stopped a string of hopefuls from other departments, though.   
  
"I can teach you sign language, if you want."   
  
Sara's eyes darted up as she slowly lowered the book. Turning first her eyes, then her head, she found herself looking into a pair of incredibly blue eyes.   
  
"Grissom? How …"   
  
He smiled at her look of astonishment.   
  
"The receptionist said your whole section would be attending this talk."   
  
"I know why I'm here. Why are you here?" she asked in shock.   
  
"I still owe you dinner," he said in mock seriousness.   
  
Sara cocked her head in amusement. He'd traveled 300 miles just to take her out? Before they could continue their conversation, the lecturer took her place. She smirked as she watched Grissom lean forward, resting his chin on his hands as he tried to follow the discussion. Even after reviewing a backlog of journals, she had trouble keeping up.   
  
"Where would you like to eat?" Grissom asked casually as they walked towards his rental car after the lecture.   
  
"Depends. What time does your flight leave?" she asked, checking her watch. He couldn't be staying very long if he had to be back tonight.   
  
"Eight-fifteen. On Thursday morning."   
  
Sara stopped to look at him in astonishment. Three days off in a row was a luxury in their field; taking it immediately after a vacation was unbelievable.   
  
"You took off right after coming back from vacation?" she asked incredulously. "Do you have a death-wish?"   
  
Grissom chuckled as he opened the car door for Sara. "Well, let's just say I used up the last of any residual sympathy the others may have felt for me."   
  
She stopped him before he could start the car. "Grissom, seriously, why are you here?"   
  
"I … planned on taking this time off to visit you anyway. In case I didn't get to see you last week. Well, in case I chickened out, or screwed up and needed to apologize," he paused to lick his lips nervously. "Sara, I didn't plan what happened. I never meant to take advantage of you when you were that upset."   
  
"Do you regret it?" she asked cautiously.   
  
He gave her a gentle smile, but his voice held a trace of nervousness mixed in with humor. "I don't know. Do you still respect me?"   
  
"Grissom, after that night, I have whole new levels of respect for you," she said, smiling when he dropped his head, chuckling. Reaching over, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "And, if you remember, I initiated the second round. You weren't taking advantage of me."   
  
"Do you regret it?" he asked in return.   
  
"Regret? No. It was wonderful. Was it fair to you? Probably not," she admitted with a shrug. "I'm still not all together."   
  
Grissom turned around in the seat so he could watch her more easily. She looked wonderful. Getting away seemed to help her, a fact she confirmed when he brought it up.   
  
"There's no expectations here. No one knows who I am. Back in Vegas, my picture was always on the news. Every time there was something else to report about the accident, they'd pull out that shot again. I couldn't go anywhere without people knowing me. It was weird.   
  
"Plus, no one here knows about my problems. Jimmy has an idea, but I didn't tell him everything. No one looks at me, like they're wondering what crazy thing I'll do next. No one thinks I'm going to go jump off the roof," she said, poking a finger in his arm.   
  
"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," he said, reaching out to caress her hand.   
  
"You meant well," she said, flashing him a grin. "I can't believe you flew out here again."   
  
"I miss you. And I do want to talk," he said simply, turning to start the engine. "Come on, I'm hungry. Point me in a direction."   
  
They settled into a dark corner of a local haunt, splitting a pizza and a pitcher of beer, initially keeping the conversation light. He brought her up to speed on what was going on in the lab, and she answered his questions about the earlier lecture.   
  
Finally, he feel into silence, wondering how to progress. It had taken him several days after she left before he could return Kane's phone call. His advice had been to be honest, but Grissom wasn't sure he still knew everything that he felt. He wanted to apologize, but she needed to understand why he had been hesitant.   
  
"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "For taking so long to answer. I … I'm really not good at all of this. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what I wanted to do. It was too much, too soon. I guess I was overwhelmed. I am sorry."   
  
"Grissom, it's all right. I know I hurt you. Bad. I wasn't joking. I wouldn't blame you if you gave up on me," she said softly.   
  
He watched her intently, smiling as he reached to take her hand. "Why didn't you ever give up on me?"   
  
"I thought you might be worth the wait," she quipped.   
  
"I feel the same way," he said kindly. "I want this to work, Sara. Can I stay with you? Just to talk. If it gets to be too much, I'll get a motel room, but I want to see if we can spend some time together."   
  
She licked her lips nervously. It sounded like a nice idea, but she was worried about blowing up at him. They had to try sometime, but was it too soon? Sara looked up when Grissom squeezed her hand.   
  
"It's not like we'll be seeing each other all the time. You'll be at work during the day," he said gently. "I know you said you weren't ready, yet. I won't rush you. We can start back at the beginning, if it'll make you feel better. I was serious earlier. I didn't plan on us becoming involved that soon. There doesn't have to be anything … physical."   
  
He watched in confusion as she blushed and started chuckling.   
  
"Sorry. Uhm, the … physical? That's a moot point right now. You picked the wrong days to visit," she said, smirking, but not able to keep eye contact.   
  
"Oh," he said as realization hit. "I guess I really do have bad timing."   
  
"Your timing was incredible," Sara smirked again, this time suggestively, causing Grissom to laugh.   
  
"Is it all right to stay with you?"   
  
"Sure. I'd like that," she said finally, squeezing his hand in return.   
  
As they curled up to sleep that night, Sara remembered to ask Grissom what he had signed before.   
  
"'Good-night, good-night. Parting is such sweet sorrow'," he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.   
  
"Shakespeare, right?"   
  
"Romeo to Juliet."   
  
"You know, Grissom, they didn't exactly have a happy ending," she said, turning over to face him.   
  
"They had too many people interfering with them," he said gently. "I haven't told anyone about us. I, I think this would be easier for me the fewer people who know. For now, anyway."   
  
"How are we going to do this? You can't keep flying out here every couple days. Your schedule is too erratic."   
  
"No, but we can keep in contact. I know you're happier here, but do you think you could come out to Vegas? Maybe on some weekends? You can stay with me. I won't be able to get off all the time, but that might be better. I wouldn't be around to bother you," he said lightly.   
  
"I don't know," she said honestly.   
  
"Think about it," he said, brushing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Let's see how these next few days go. If you think you can handle a visit, let me know. I'll send you the tickets. If it bothers you, we'll stick you back on a plane. I'll try to come back here later. We might have to settle for occasional one-day visits."   
  
Sara snuggled closer to him. That might be able to work. "No promises, but it sounds like a good idea."   
  
~~~~~   
  
She was happily surprised at how well things went during his visit. While she went to work, he would visit museums, or catch up with colleagues in the area, twice meeting her for lunch. In the evenings, they went out to dinner. Afterwards, they curled up on the futon talking, or watching movies. He never pushed her about coming back to Las Vegas.   
  
On the last night, Grissom woke up to find Sara struggling under the covers, just before she screamed. Waving him off, she dashed to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. When he heard the shower start, he waited impatiently on the edge of the futon for her to return.   
  
"Sorry," she murmured, rubbing a towel over her hair. "Look, go back to sleep, Grissom. I won't be able to. I'll do something else."   
  
"What are you going to do?" he asked gently, moving his arms to indicate the small room. Other than the bathroom, there was no place else for her to go to. "Come here."   
  
Grissom turned her as she sat, so her back was facing him. He began to slowly massage the tension from her muscles. "I thought you said the nightmares were getting better."   
  
"They are. They're not as bad. Only getting one or two a week now," she said simply, groaning as he hit a particularly tight muscle..   
  
He leaned forward to kiss her neck. "I had no idea," he said. That nightmare had been terrible. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like to go through worse ones every night.   
  
"I get nightmares anyway. Even before the accident. Guess that's one reason I never had much luck with relationships. Scare the guys away," she said nervously.   
  
Grissom gave her neck another kiss. "I get migraines. From what I've been told, I'm not pleasant to be around then."   
  
Sara sighed, rolling her neck as she felt the tension melt under his care. "You don't get those often. Not really the same."   
  
He didn't answer, but gently laid her down so he could move his massage lower down her back. After several minutes, he could tell she was relaxing. "Feel better?"   
  
"Much."   
  
"Good," he said, shifting her body so her head was up by the pillows. Pulling the covers back over them, he curled up behind her, draping his arm around her. "Try to go back to sleep. I'll be here."   
  
"Thanks, Grissom. For everything," she said, wrapping her hand over top of his. After a few minutes, she drifted off to sleep   
  
The next morning she watched Grissom from the edge of the futon as he got up to fix coffee, acting as if nothing unusual had happened the night before. He really was determined to make this work, she realized. It seemed like a good idea; they could still be together, but keep a safe distance while she finished recovering. She smiled as she thought of a way of letting him know her answer.   
  
"Hey, Grissom, come here for a minute," she said, waving him over. "Let me see your T-shirt."   
  
He cocked his head, but complied with the request, stripping off the garment. "Why?" he asked in confusion as she tossed it aside.   
  
"So it doesn't get in the way," she said, leaning forward to kiss his stomach, smiling when she felt his intake of breath.   
  
Slipping her fingers under the waistband of his boxers, she paused when he squeezed her shoulder. Leaning back, she saw the questioning look in his eyes. She gave him a reassuring smile as she pulled down his shorts. 


	45. Ch 45

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 45  
  
The following Friday morning found Grissom carefully carrying a package, trying not to attract any attention, but he failed to reach his office in time.   
  
"Gil, come join us," Catherine called out softly, indicating the bags of carryout the rest of the team was getting ready to share.   
  
Grissom didn't pause, but turned briefly, having to decline her offer twice. Reaching his sanctuary, he closed the door behind him, and let out a long sigh as he crossed to his desk.   
  
In the five weeks since Sara had left, he'd received more invitations to meals, to grab a beer, movies and coffee than he could recall. Everyone seemed to have decided he needed cheering up. If their concern hadn't been based - at least partially - in pity, he'd have found his sudden social popularity amusing. Instead, it was irritating him.   
  
He knew he was making it worse by avoiding the others. It wasn't something he relished, but he couldn't think of any other option. They were good. If he spent too much time around them, they would eventually realize that something was going on in his personal life, and that wasn't something he wanted them to know.   
  
Things with Sara looked promising, but he knew the relationship was still fragile. They still needed time to build a solid foundation. Grissom wasn't going to take any chances by exposing it to scrutiny – even if it was from well-meaning friends.   
  
Neither he nor Sara were ready for that type of attention.   
  
The anonymity she had found in California had helped her recovery considerably. It had been obvious to him during the time they spent together last week. Without the constant violations of her privacy, she'd been able to rebuild some of her control and confidence. Sara had been more relaxed and laughed easily, but she wasn't completely herself.   
  
He was still adjusting to sharing his life with just one person. Letting the others know wasn't something he was ready to do. Too much of his life had been made public earlier, and he hadn't handled it well. He'd lost control of too many things in short a time period, and nearly lost Sara in the process.   
  
The irony wasn't lost on him. He'd gone to Philip in the first place to help become less isolated, but now he kept even more distance between himself and the others than before. Even Kane had chuckled when he brought it up.   
  
Luckily, the departmental psychologist had been willing to meet him on an informal basis at his townhouse to talk over coffee. Grissom was too uncomfortable seeing Kane in his office once his therapy had become fodder for the office gossip pool.   
  
Setting behind his desk, he took out his dinner and began to quickly eat. Half of the lab techs had food poisoning, and the casework was backing up. He hoped to have a chance to get to the grocery store today, and he needed to clean the townhouse.   
  
Sara would be making her first visit tonight, catching a late flight out of Santa Barbara after work. Despite the fact that this trip had been his idea, Grissom found himself very nervous.   
  
He couldn't help remembering Sara's letter. In truth, he'd read it so many times, the ink had started to rub off in places. Luckily, he had it memorized by now. She didn't want to start a relationship, because she didn't think she was ready.   
  
Then what were they doing?   
  
He knew Sara was afraid of using him. Grissom let out another long sigh, stabbing a leaf of lettuce mercilessly. He didn't feel used. But what did she think? Was she going to regret this later?   
  
In all their conversations, they had covered a lot of ground, but there had been one thing Sara specifically hadn't mentioned: love. She had written in her parting letter that she loved him. But in all her phone calls, e-mails and in their direct communications, she'd never said it.   
  
He knew he had hurt her by taking so long to contact her after she left, but he hoped she still felt the same way. Grissom wondered if she was keeping quiet for his sake. When he told her he hadn't told the others that he was visiting her, Sara had seemed supportive. She'd even stopped communicating with him at work, leaving all her messages for him at his townhouse. Maybe she didn't want him to feel rushed.   
  
Of course, he hadn't told her how he felt, either. Should he? What if she wanted to go slow and he scared her off? He jabbed his lunch angrily. There were so many potential answers, but not all of them were good. He had no idea what to do.   
  
His eyes darted to his Rolodex, but he stifled a groan. There was no way he was going to talk to Philip. Not about his sex life. No, no way, that was just too private. He had to draw a line somewhere.   
  
~~~~~   
  
"Grissom not joining us?" Nick asked as he entered the break room.   
  
The others shook their heads. Despite their best efforts, no one had had any luck getting him to open up. Ever since news of his therapy got out, he'd become progressively more withdrawn from the rest of the team. While never a social butterfly, it now seemed to the others that he was actively avoiding them.   
  
"He brought something to eat from home," Catherine said. "I told him he could leave it for tomorrow and join us, but he wouldn't."   
  
She sat down wearily, worrying about her friend. He was taking this far too hard. Even when he was upset in the past, Grissom still would join the team for meals. She couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten with them, just that it was before Sara left.   
  
An unaccustomed wave of guilt washed over her. While she usually lived by the motto "Don't look back, no regrets", she was finding that hard to do. This time, her actions had hurt two of her friends. She was the one who had confronted the younger woman, triggering the bombshell that Grissom was seeing Kane.   
  
Sara didn't seem to hold against her; in fact, in her parting letter she'd made it clear to Catherine that it wasn't her fault. She did ask that she keep an eye on Grissom, but he'd rejected every attempt she'd made to talk to him. Finally, the younger woman had told her to just leave him alone until he was ready to bring it up.   
  
"Has anyone heard from Sara recently?" Greg asked.   
  
"Yeah. Got an e-mail from her this afternoon," Catherine sighed. "She decided not to re-enroll in grad school, but she still won't say whether she's planning on coming back to the lab."   
  
"Same thing she wrote me the other day," Warrick added. "She seems happy, though."   
  
"That's what she says, anyway," Nick chimed in. "Haven't you been e-mailing her, Greg?"   
  
"Nah," he said, shaking his head, before dropping his eyes to a container of stir-fry.   
  
"It wasn't your fault," Catherine said.   
  
The lab tech gave them a small shrug. Despite what the others said, he couldn't help feeling partially responsible for her leaving. He had been the one who had flippantly let Grissom know his secret was out, which had sent him storming to confront Sara. Then she left, without warning, shortly afterwards. The two had to be connected, Greg felt.   
  
"Grissom hasn't blamed you, has he?" Nick asked.   
  
"No. He hasn't said anything about it. He hasn't said anything that wasn't absolutely work-related."   
  
"He's that way with everybody. Don't think you're getting special treatment," Catherine said.   
  
"Someone has to talk to him. This isn't healthy. He's too reclusive – even by the Grissom-scale," Greg whispered.   
  
"Yeah? Who's he going to listen to?" she muttered.   
  
The others gave her a sympathetic look. This whole experience had been rough on the team, but she was taking it especially hard. Catherine valued her friendship with Grissom, but it looked like it may have been damaged beyond repair. In the past, she was the one he was most likely to open up to, but ever since Sara left, he'd shut her out. For the last couple of weeks, it had gotten to the point he'd barely stay in the same room with her.   
  
"Greg's right, guys," Nick said, fishing out more containers from the bag. "He can't keep this up."   
  
"Give it rest. He's handling it his way," Warrick countered.   
  
"Is he? Or is he avoiding it?"   
  
"I don't know, Nick. But look at his way: he lost his privacy, his pride, hell, maybe even his reputation. Think how hard that would be for you. Then think about how private he is. Talking about this is the last thing he wants. Don't bring it up. It'd be like rubbing salt in his wounds," Warrick advised.   
  
The others continued to sort through the carryout silently, no one wanting to mention the obvious thing that had been lost. Sara's leaving five weeks earlier had caught them completely unaware, and they were still getting use to her absence. Not only that, but her replacement had turned out to be unpopular. While competent, the others agreed with Archie's assessment that he was a "mini-Ecklie".   
  
"You don't think …, nah, never mind."   
  
"What, Greg?" Nick demanded.   
  
"Well, he's all bummed. Goes away for a week on vacation. So he says. Then, he's back for a couple days, and bang! He goes away again. Says he'll be out of town the whole time, don't bother trying to reach him. You don't think he's looking for a new job, do you? Going on interviews?"   
  
The others exchanged startled looks.   
  
"No reason for him to stay. Nothing to tie him down. People making jokes about him. It's not like any other lab would turn him down," Nick said slowly.   
  
"And it's not like he loves Mobley or Carvallo," Greg added.   
  
"Don't jump to conclusions," Warrick said, but his voice held traces of doubt.   
  
Catherine darted her eyes between her colleagues. Grissom wouldn't leave, would he? He couldn't be taking it that hard. Could he? Not liking the answers her mind was supplying, she decided to try direct action again.   
  
"Anyone going to eat this?" she asked, grabbing the package of egg rolls. "Keep Saturday afternoon open."   
  
The others exchanged confused looks as she dashed out of the room, heading towards Grissom's office.   
  
"Hey, Gil," she said softly, making sure to knock on his office door first. "We have some extra egg rolls. You want them?"   
  
"No thanks."   
  
She came into the room slowly, watching him closely. He was eating a chef salad? Had he lost a bit of weight? God, he wasn't going through a mid-life crisis, was he?   
  
"Well, it'd be a shame to waste it," she said, placing them on his desk. Catherine noticed with a bit of pain that he neither acknowledged the food nor her taking a seat across from him. She wanted to mend their fences, but it was hard to do when he kept his half hidden behind walls.   
  
Grissom kept his eyes focused on his salad, hoping she would take the hint that he didn't want to talk to her. Catherine was the most dangerous; she'd always been able to get information out of him when she set her mind to it. He knew he was running a risk of damaging their friendship, but it was a price he was willing to pay.   
  
"Hey, I'm having a little get together on Saturday afternoon. Just some of the gang from work. Beer, hamburgers, nothing fancy. You coming?"   
  
"No thanks."   
  
"Look, Gil, I'm sorry, about everything. I know this has to be painful. Don't shut everyone else out over this," she implored.   
  
He watched her cautiously, trying to keep his emotions masked. Sara had said she didn't want to meet up with the others. She wasn't ready for their face-to-face questioning. He had to work both Friday and Saturday evenings; he didn't want to spend any more of her brief visit apart.   
  
"I already have plans to visit an old friend," he said softly, turning back to his salad.   
  
Catherine winced. Wasn't she an old friend? Maybe he did blame her for all that had happened. "Well, bring your friend along. There's enough for one more," she said with a false levity.   
  
"I'll pass it on, but don't count on it," he said.   
  
She cocked her head, unsure of how to continue. His attitude made it clear he didn't want to talk about non-work-related matters. So, maybe it was time to try to frame her concerns in that context.   
  
"Have you heard from Sara?"   
  
Grissom looked at her from over his glasses, wondering if Sara had told Catherine anything. He quickly dismissed that idea.   
  
"Why?" he asked cautiously.   
  
"Have you heard if she's coming back to the lab?"   
  
"No," he said honestly, returning back to his meal.   
  
Sara hadn't decided, and he wasn't going to push her. He hoped she'd get her confidence back and would return to the department, but he was more concerned about her well-being. If it was better for her not to return to the lab, so be it. He just wasn't sure what he'd do if she decided not to return to Las Vegas at all.   
  
Catherine let out a soft sigh. "Why don't you ask her?"   
  
Grissom gave her a brief, harsh look. His patience with her meddling was wearing thin, but he refrained from answering. He knew the others meant well, but they had been after him on a near-daily basis.   
  
"Don't you think you should find out? We'll need to get a permanent replacement if she doesn't," Catherine plodded ahead.   
  
"What's wrong with Ron taking it?" he asked in confusion. Sara's replacement had indicated he'd be willing to take a permanent position if it became available. It was one reason he'd been hired.   
  
She snorted dismissively.   
  
"He knows the material, works hard," he pointed out.   
  
"Is a pain in the ass," she added under her breath, shrugging at Grissom's renewed look of displeasure. "He doesn't fit in well with the rest of the team."   
  
"I seem to recall you having the same attitude with Sara," he said shortly.   
  
"Well, it wasn't like you did anything to help …," she started hotly, but paused when she saw his hurt expression. "He's not Sara," Catherine said softly, trying to ease the tension.   
  
"No, he's not," Grissom said coldly, turning back to his computer. He sighed when Catherine left the room, closing his eyes briefly. When things were settled down, he'd find a way to make it up to her.   
  
Warrick looked up when Catherine slumped back into her chair in the break room. He gave her a pointed look, before shaking his head.   
  
"You should have left him alone," he said quietly.   
  
"I can't ignore him. What kind of friend would I be if I did?"   
  
"Cath, I feel for him. This sucks. I know he has to be hurting, but you can't make him talk to you. Griss doesn't handle things the way other people do. You can't rush him. Let him know you're there for him, but don't push him. When he's ready, he'll come to you. If you don't back off, you're going to ruin what's left of your friendship."   
  
She gave him a dirty look, but kept her tongue. She couldn't argue with his advice. It was the same thing she'd told Grissom about Sara. 


	46. Ch 46

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 46  
  
Sara stood outside the doorway, trying to calm her nerves. The flight from California had been hideous, and she was feeling the stress. Taking a deep breath, she told herself this shouldn't be a difficult decision.   
  
Grissom had sent her a house key by FedEx as a precaution. Things had been hectic at the lab, and he wasn't sure he'd be home when she got there. His car was parked out front, though, but she couldn't decide whether she should knock or just let herself in.   
  
Deciding to err on the side of politeness, she knocked, trying to work up a believable smile. Grissom answered the door with a confused look, but smiled when he recognized her. He was talking on the phone, but took her bag as he escorted her towards the bedroom.   
  
"Well, leave the intestines in the oven for now. Once the gas company disconnects the unit, disassemble it and bring it into the lab," he said, shaking his head apologetically. Sara gave him an understanding nod. She smiled when he pointed out the open dresser drawer, which he'd emptied out for her to use.   
  
"O'Riley, I don't care how much he complains. Do it. It's not like he's going to have any customers once they find out what his pizza oven was used to cook," Grissom said, leaving her alone to unpack, giving her a brief one-armed hug as he muttered more instructions.   
  
She froze momentarily when she saw the terrarium of cockroaches next to the bed. "Probably some hissing variety he's trained as an alarm clock," she groused quietly. After quickly checking that there was nothing equally disgusting on the other side of the bed, Sara made a mental note to make sure Grissom slept beside the roaches. If that were the first thing she saw when she woke up, the bugs wouldn't have a long life expectancy.   
  
Heading back into the main area, she found Grissom sipping a mug of coffee. She smiled as she found her plants, thriving under the care being lavished upon them. Walking over, she wrapped her arms around him for a proper greeting. The phone started ringing shortly after their first kiss.   
  
"Damn. There's coffee made. Or there's juice and water in the fridge if you prefer," he said as he crossed back to the phone.   
  
"Thanks. Caffeine's the last thing I need right now," she said, ignoring his concerned look.   
  
"Grissom," he said automatically, barely listening to Nick's findings. Sara had been awfully tense, and he wondered if something was wrong. Seeing her pale and slam the refrigerator door, he quickly hung up. "I'll call you later."   
  
Walking quickly into the kitchen area, he gently grasped her shoulders, but she pulled away from him angrily.   
  
"Jesus Christ, Grissom! Blood. You keep blood in your fridge," she shouted, wrapping her arms around herself. "It's bad enough you keep the damn bugs by the bed, but what the hell do you have growing in there?"   
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to hold her. It had been a while since he'd seen her this upset. Maybe coming back to Vegas hadn't been a good idea. Then it hit him: blood. "You okay? Did the blood cause a flashback?"   
  
She stopped her pacing to give her a startled look. After a moment she pulled away, blushing deeply.   
  
"Sorry," she whispered. "No, it didn't cause a flashback. It's just gross. I'm sorry. I … I'm upset, I didn't mean to take it out on you."   
  
He stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist. "Don't worry about it. What's wrong?"   
  
"The flight was bad. It got me stressed," was all she would say, stepping away from him.   
  
"Are you all right? Do you want to go back?" he asked hesitantly. Grissom could tell she was trying to get herself back under control, but was unsure what he could do to help.   
  
"No! I'm sorry, I, no, I don't want to go. I can, if you want …"   
  
"I don't," he began, swearing as his phone started ringing again.   
  
"Just go, Grissom. They need you. I understand."   
  
"Sara," he said softly.   
  
"It's all right. I'm sorry I yelled. Don't worry about me," she said, walking with him to the door, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before he left. "Give me a call before you leave, okay? We'll have breakfast together."   
  
~~~~~   
  
"What are you doing?"   
  
Grissom looked up from the office refrigerator to find Catherine watching him curiously. He'd been shifting through the various containers, trying to see how much space he could clear out. "I need room for some experiments …"   
  
"Oh, no! No way, Gil! You're not putting any more of your experiments in there! Use your own fridge for that damn crap! It's disgusting," she exclaimed.   
  
He pulled off his glasses and watched as she stormed out of the break room. Given the leeway all the staff members had been showing him recently, the display was especially revealing. Did people really object to his experiments?   
  
It wasn't like Catherine was the cleanest person in the world. With her hours and raising a child by herself, he'd seen more than one sink full of dishes at her house. Sara, on the other hand, traveled with her own supply of nonoxynol-9. If Catherine found it objectionable, no wonder Sara had been upset.   
  
He rubbed his temples as he headed back to the Layout Room. Some of those experiments had been going on for months; he'd hated the idea of having to throw them away.   
  
~~~~~   
  
The first thing that greeted him when he entered his townhouse were the smells. Coffee was immediately identifiable, but the others weren't as clear. Whatever they were, his stomach was responding positively.   
  
Following his nose, he discovered Sara in the kitchen, quickly slicing various fruits into a large bowl. She gave him a sheepish look when he walked in.   
  
"Don't get used to this. I'm not planning on making a habit of having to cook apology-breakfasts," she said sternly.   
  
He watched as the knife expertly flew around the cutting board. Sara obviously had experience in the kitchen, despite her well-known aversion to cooking. He was nervous, though; she was obviously still tense, and he worried she'd hurt herself.   
  
Grissom gave her a smile as he went to locate the source of the aromas. "It smells delicious."   
  
"Thanks. French toast," she said, pointing to the oven. He cocked his head in confusion. "Trick we learned at the B&B. It's easier to bake it, rather than cook each piece individually."   
  
He did a double take as he saw the large pan full of slices of bread. "I only know how to cook for a crowd. You can't cut the recipe down. Don't worry, it reheats well. We can have it the rest of the weekend," she said, the warning clear in her tone.   
  
Walking around the island, he gave her another smile. Grissom paused when he saw the cooler sitting in the corner. Opening it, he found his various petri dishes and vials neatly packed among the ice. Opening the fridge, a faint odor of bleach greeted him.   
  
"Sorry. That was just too gross, Grissom. I couldn't have eaten anything that was stored in there," she said softly.   
  
"It's okay," he said. "I'm sorry. I didn't have time to clear that out before you got here. I should have known you wouldn't like it."   
  
Sara gave him a noncommittal shrug, blowing away a loose strand of hair from her face. Grissom watched her carefully; noting she seemed tired. He did a quick scan of the living area. The cooler was new; his was locked in the storage area. He'd never made it to the grocery store; Sara must have gone shopping, as well as sanitizing the kitchen. Her laptop and a selection of files were sitting on the dining room table, indicating she had been working throughout the night.   
  
"What's wrong?" he asked softly, planting a kiss on her cheek.   
  
She set down the knife and braced her arms on the counter. "Of all the damn flights that come into Vegas full of tourists, I get on one with someone who recognized me," she exclaimed. "Worse than that, his neighbor's great-niece went to the same school as those kids. He wouldn't let it go, Grissom. The whole flight, he kept telling people about it. There wasn't anything I could do. I think I know how a claustrophobic feels now. Finally, one of the other passengers told him to shut up, that he was embarrassing me. I don't know which was worse."   
  
He gently pulled her back against him. This time, she leaned back, wrapping her arms over top of his. "I am sorry for yelling at you," she said contritely.   
  
"Shhh. Weren't you able to sleep?" he asked, moving to place a series of kisses along her neck.   
  
"I didn't try," she purred, tilting her head to give him better access.   
  
"Why not?"   
  
She turned to give him a shy smile. "I wanted to sleep with you."   
  
"Really?" he questioned lightly.   
  
"Really." Her seductive smile was ruined by the yawn. "After we sleep. Which isn't until after we eat. Let me finish this. You go entertain yourself," she said with a wink.   
  
He grinned as he walked into the bedroom to grab the terrarium of roaches. Sara hadn't liked them for some reason, so he decided to move them. Finding a new location was the problem. The spare bedroom was already full of various collections and habitats.   
  
Moving to set the terrarium on the kitchen counter, he stopped when Sara pointed the knife at him, motioning him to step away. He shrugged an apology; if she didn't like bugs in the bedroom, he should have guessed that putting them in the kitchen wouldn't be acceptable.   
  
"Just stick them some place where they can't watch us," she sighed.   
  
Walking into the living room, he wondered if he could find room for them on one of the bookcases. Those were full, also. His desk was covered with various materials; no wonder Sara had to work at the table. This place was too small for both of them to live here, he realized.   
  
Grissom stopped suddenly, his heart beating nervously. That thought had been unexpected. He turned to watch as she finished fixing the fruit salad. Would she want to move in with him if she came back to Las Vegas? Did he want her to? What other changes would he need to make? How soon should he wait before asking? It was too soon, now, they were still getting used to sharing time together occasionally.   
  
This wasn't an area he really had much experience in, but he suspected it the experiments could be fun.   
  
Grinning, he carried the roaches back to the bedroom, sticking them in a corner, and covering the tank with a towel he grabbed from the linen closet. He'd have to make sure to give Sara his own apology later.   
  
~~~~~   
  
Sara let out a final contented sigh as Grissom pulled her against his body. That had been fantastic. When they first made love, he'd surprised her with how tender he could be. Tonight, he showed his stamina.   
  
"Wow," was all she could get the breath to say, as she ran her fingers across his ribcage.   
  
"Enjoy yourself?" Grissom asked lightly.   
  
"Repeatedly," she said happily. "If I were a cat, I'd be purring."   
  
"Good thing you're not. Cats purr when they want attention. And I'm exhausted," he said, capturing her hand to bring it to his lips for a kiss.   
  
Sara leaned over him to watch his face. Pulling her hand free, she wiped away some of the sweat, before moving in to kiss him. He had been amazing, but he looked entirely too smug.   
  
"So what did you do? Recite baseball statistics?" she teased.   
  
"No. I reviewed all the taxonomical and physiological information I could remember about the 23 species of scorpions indigenous to Nevada."   
  
"Ughh. Grissom! You really know how to ruin the mood, don't you," she said, dropping her head to his chest.   
  
He panicked. Sara didn't like scorpions either? An idea popped into his head, as he ran his hand over her back.   
  
"Well, what if I said there were 23 members of the Theclinae subfamily in Nevada?"   
  
She lifted her head up, raising an eyebrow warily. "Theclinae?"   
  
"Hairstreaks. A type of gossamer-wing butterfly," he said hopefully.   
  
She smiled. "That's better."   
  
"Well, there are 25 members of Pyrginae; those are spread-wing skippers. And there's 27 each of the blues, Polyommatinae and the Pierinae family, the whites and sulphurs."   
  
She gave him a challenging look. "Do you know as much about butterflies as you do scorpions?"   
  
"More," he said quickly.   
  
"Bonus," she said sweetly, kissing him.   
  
Grissom wrapped his other arm around her as she deepened the kisses. With a groan, he broke away. "But not any time soon," he said sadly. "There is a disadvantage to being with an older man, Sara."   
  
"That's not a problem," she said, snuggling into his chest. "I prefer quality to quantity. And you so have quality down."   
  
He draped an arm lazily across her shoulders, holding her while he caught his breath. After a while, he rolled over so he was facing her. Reaching up, he tenderly brushed away a lock of hair. Starting with her lips, he kissed his way over to her ear.   
  
"I love you," he whispered nervously, waiting for her reaction. He didn't have to wait long. After a startled look, she smiled bashfully.   
  
"Good. Hate to think I was the only one for felt that way."   
  
"You're a narcissist?" he teased, relieved that she wasn't rejecting him.   
  
"No. I love you, too," she stated firmly. "I really do."   
  
Smiling, he pulled her close for another kiss, running his hands over her body. When he moved to fondle her breasts, she broke away.   
  
"You cannot be ready to go again," she stated, but with a trace of hope.   
  
"No," he admitted.   
  
She playfully slapped his hand away. "Then don't get me riled up until you're in a position to do something about it."   
  
Grissom smiled. He had intended to fix her a nice dinner as part of his apology, but there was plenty of french toast left over. A better idea had formed; just because he wasn't ready, didn't mean she had to wait. He kissed her passionately, rolling over on top of her, before pulling back to settle between her legs.   
  
"What are you doing?"   
  
"Getting in a position to do something about it," he promised, running his hands up her thighs. 


	47. Ch 47

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 47  
  
Re-entering the bedroom after his shower, Grissom paused at the sight that greeted him. Leaning against the doorframe, he watched silently as Sara slept. Curled up in the center of the bed, buried under the covers, only her tussled hair was visible. A smile formed as he recalled their earlier encounters.   
  
Grissom felt his powers of imagination were more than adequate, and thoughts of Sara had certainly filled the majority of his fantasies, but the reality had proven far more potent than anything he'd ever dreamt. He'd been relieved to find he'd been able to please her so well. Their age difference was an annoying fact that he feared would have left Sara feeling unfulfilled. She certainly did things to him; even the memories made his heart race.   
  
As impressive as the physical aspect had been, the level of satisfaction he experienced went beyond that. They had formed an emotional connection he was still trying to comprehend. It was different from anything he'd felt in the past. While it was pleasant, the intensity of it was also frightening.   
  
She loved him. Even in his most intimate daydreams, he'd never dared to imagine that. It had seemed too unlikely. Sara had her choice of men, and didn't have to settle for him.   
  
Shifting position, his smile widened as he remembered her reaction when he'd been the first to actually make the admission. It had certainly made him nervous, but apparently it had been the right thing to say, and at the right time. At least he'd managed that. Grissom knew he should have done more earlier to set her at ease.   
  
His mood became pensive as he recalled their weekend together. While she was noticeably more relaxed, he couldn't ignore the fact that coming back to Las Vegas had initially made her tense. Grissom allowed that finding his experiments in the refrigerator probably contributed to her stress, but it wasn't the only factor.   
  
Being recognized on the flight had been a stroke of bad luck, but it proved that Sara hadn't completely recovered. Once again, he found himself worrying that she would decide it would be easier not to return to Nevada.   
  
What would he do then? Grissom sighed as he considered the options. They couldn't keep up a long-distance relationship indefinitely. Not only would the constant travel be taxing and expensive, he doubted it would be emotionally satisfying for Sara. She hadn't complained, but Grissom knew it wasn't enough for him. Right now, the distance was allowing them to acclimate gradually to their new status, but eventually it would be more a hindrance than help.   
  
If she couldn't return, would he be willing to leave? That was a major decision. Finding another job wouldn't be difficult, he knew. It wasn't a matter of ego, but of fact. He was one of the premiere forensic scientists in the country. Employment wasn't the problem. It was the commitment involved.   
  
What if she decided he couldn't provide her with the emotional depth she needed? Grissom shifted uncomfortably. Hell, he had been worried about her after the flight, and he'd had trouble making himself talk about it. He just didn't know how to voice his concerns.   
  
As much as he wanted to comfort her, the only way he'd been able to do so was physically. While it may have helped, he knew he should be offering Sara more. What that additional something should be was a question he didn't know how to answer.   
  
Would she eventually leave him? Grissom closed his eyes as that thought churned in his mind. It wouldn't be the first time he'd been abandoned. She deserved to be loved openly, but he didn't know if he could offer that. At least, not yet. Would she wait for him?   
  
Why should she? Grissom cocked his head in thought. He was the one with the … issues. Sara had been going through hell since the accident, but she had willingly returned to the one place she least wanted to be. For him. Shouldn't he be the one making sacrifices for her?   
  
Crossing the room, he gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. This was a beautiful sight he wanted to see for a very long time. Reaching over, he brushed a lock of hair from her face. When she let out a realistic-sounding purr, Grissom began to chuckle.   
  
"I thought you went back to sleep."   
  
Sara kept her eyes shut, but arched a brow as a faint smile formed.   
  
"Do you remember who you're talking to? I already slept more than I normally do" she quipped.   
  
"It's that damn futon. If you had a real bed, you'd sleep better."   
  
Sara opened her eyes as she smiled at their private joke and stretched contentedly.   
  
"Are you cold?" he asked, noticing she'd changed back into her pajamas while he'd showered.   
  
"A little," she admitted, giving him a seductive look. "But mainly I'm behaving. Can't have you late for work."   
  
"You're incorrigible," he said, shaking his head.   
  
"Insatiable." Sara laughed at his shocked look. "Relax. Actually, I'm waiting to get the feeling back in my legs. I think my toes are still curled, but I'm not sure," she teased, moving up to lean against the headboard.   
  
"I take it my apology was acceptable?" he asked lightly.   
  
Instead of a smile, Sara gave him a confused look. "What do you need to apologize for?"   
  
"The fridge."   
  
"Don't," she said firmly, before closing her eyes and letting out a ragged breath. "Look, it's your place. You can keep whatever you want, wherever you want. I was just stressed out, Grissom. I didn't mean to take it out on you. That wasn't your fault."   
  
Grissom licked his lips nervously. She probably should talk about the stress. Given his track record, there was a realistic chance he could say the wrong thing. "Are you okay? Now? It's still early. You could call Philip if you want to talk."   
  
Sara shook her head. "It's okay. Really. I feel a lot better. Guess that's a good sign. I'm down to being a bitch for just a little while."   
  
"You're not a bitch," he whispered, running a hand down her arm. How could she think that, after all she'd been through? "I … I … I have no idea what to say. I'm sorry, Sara. I can never think of the right thing to say, or how to express myself, until about two days after the fact."   
  
"I noticed," she said, but with a gentle smile. She moved her hand to rest on top of his, giving it a squeeze. "I'm going to keep telling you this until you believe me: it wasn't your fault. None of this has been. Not even the blood or those gross things growing in the vials."   
  
"It didn't help, though. It won't happen again, Sara, I promise. I want you to feel comfortable here. If you don't like experiments in the kitchen, then I'll find somewhere else to put them."   
  
Grissom leaned in to kiss her gently, caressing her softly as he did. Sara responded by wrapping her hand behind his neck, drawing him closer as she deepened the kiss. Pulling back, he gave her a mock-glare.   
  
"You said you were going to behave."   
  
"I am. If I wasn't being nice, we wouldn't be talking now." Sara gave him a look that meshed seduction and teasing. "So, if that was an apology, does that mean I can't expect that every night? You've built up my expectations now."   
  
"Only if you want to explain to Doc Robbins why I'm a guest in the morgue," he said, only half-jokingly.   
  
"Epithelials will give it away," she said, pulling him down for one last quick kiss. "Don't worry. I couldn't survive that every night, either. But what a way to go."   
  
He returned her smile, but Sara could tell he was still nervous. "Hey, I'm all right. If it'll make you feel better, I told Philip I'd send him an e-mail detailing how the visit went. I'll let him know I got upset, but it didn't last long."   
  
"You're still seeing, uh, talking to Philip?"   
  
"Yeah. I'm supposed to send him an e-mail update once a week. And I'm talking to one of the counselors at the university. Same deal. Try to find a stress release. Keep up a journal."   
  
"Can I do anything to help?" Grissom asked softly.   
  
"Could you fix some coffee why I shower?" Sara asked with an amused smile.   
  
"That I can manage. Want something to eat?"   
  
"Don't go to any trouble. You don't have much time before you have to go to the lab," she said, heading off to the bathroom.   
  
While the coffee brewed, Grissom pulled out the leftovers from that morning to reheat. This was something he could get used to. He would have to do whatever he could to make sure Sara wanted to continue their relationship as well.   
  
"You have a message."   
  
He turned at the unexpected sound, finding Sara approaching, toweling her hair dry. Crossing the room, he played the message from Catherine reminding him of the party that was held that afternoon.   
  
"Guess she called earlier. Didn't hear the phone," he said.   
  
"You were distracted," she replied. "You didn't have to hang around here, Grissom. You could have gone."   
  
"I didn't want to. I wanted to be here with you."   
  
"They're worried about you."   
  
"Who?" he asked.   
  
"The gang. I can tell from their e-mails. Well, more like from what they don't tell me. Is everything okay?" Sara asked cautiously.   
  
Grissom went back to the kitchen to pour her some coffee. "Fine. I'm still not comfortable talking to them about us. It's easier for me just to keep some distance. I think that's what has them worried."   
  
Sara sipped her coffee slowly. She could understand why he wanted to maintain his privacy. It had to hurt earlier when he lost all semblance of it. But was there more to this than he was admitting? 'Only one way to find out,' she thought, steeling herself for the possible answer.   
  
"Do you want me to return? To the lab?" she asked quietly.   
  
He turned to watch her carefully, noting she wouldn't look directly at him. Was she worried about his answer? Grissom didn't like the thought that she would be hesitant to talk to him about something. Deciding this was a good time to make a concession to her, he went to stand beside her.   
  
"Sara, don't worry about what I want. You have to do what's best for you. There's no rush to make a decision. You can extend your leave-of-absence, if necessary," he said slowly. When she didn't look up at him, he let out a low, nervous sigh. "If you don't want to return to Vegas, that's fine. I can get a job somewhere else."   
  
The cup of coffee paused halfway to her lips as Sara blinked. Setting down the mug slowly, she turned to him, blinking again.   
  
"What did you say?"   
  
"I said I could get another job," he repeated anxiously, wondering why she seemed so shocked. Had he really come across as so uncaring that she'd doubted he'd do this for her?   
  
"That's … wow," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "Uhm, that's not what I meant. I know you love your job. I'd never ask you to give that up."   
  
"You're right. I do love my job. But my job is forensics, Sara, not Las Vegas. I never made any plans to make this my permanent home. If the politics at the office ever got too bad, or if I ever became bored here, I was planning on leaving. This isn't the first city I worked in. It doesn't have to be the last, either."   
  
Grissom reached up to place his hands on her shoulders, smiling when she wrapped her arms around him. Any joy he felt left when he noticed how tight her muscles were. Returning the hug, he ran his arms across her back reassuringly. After a moment, she stepped back, but rested her hands on his chest.   
  
"Thanks," she said with a smile. "But I don't think you need to do that. I think I'll be able to return, to the city at the very least. Maybe not right away, but eventually. But, uhm, I meant, do you want me to return to working for you?"   
  
"Why?" he asked in confusion.   
  
"Because you were never comfortable having a relationship with an employee. Hell, you're not comfortable letting the others know we're together. I know, I know, that's while we're working things out. That's cool. But what's going to happen if I return to the lab? Will you be able to handle it?"   
  
Grissom dropped his eyes from her searching gaze. He wanted to pull away, but knew at some level that would be a serious mistake. Sara needed some sort of reassurance, and physical was the only thing he could offer right now. His hands continued to stroke her back absentmindedly as he tried to think of what to tell her.   
  
Whether or not to return to the lab would be a major decision for her. She deserved to have an honest response. The trouble was he didn't know the answer. It was a legitimate question. He certainly hadn't handled their attraction well before. Would it be easier or harder now that they were actually together?   
  
Grissom knew he had hurt her with his previous behavior. It hadn't been intentional, but he'd still managed to do it. She had forgiven him once. Expecting a second reprieve would be pushing even her limits of patience.   
  
What would happen if he couldn't handle it? That could ruin what they were forming. It wasn't a chance he wanted to take.   
  
He snapped his head up as she let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm … I don't know what to do about … this."   
  
She gave him a brief smile at his choice of wording, before turning away. Rubbing a hand across his chin, Grissom thought desperately of something to say. Even if he didn't know the answer, he had to tell her something.   
  
"Sara, please, I'm not trying to avoid the question."   
  
"I know," she said resignedly. He had just admitted that it took him time to figure out how to answer personal questions. This was a serious matter; it would take him time to process it. Turning back to face him, Sara was surprised to see his near-panicked expression. She gave him a reassuring smile. "How about you get back to me in a couple days?" 


	48. Ch 48

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 48  
  
Catherine stood in the doorway and watched Grissom carefully. Something was wrong. While it wasn't unusual to find one of the staff waiting by the coffee machine for a fresh pot to finish brewing, they usually remembered to put grounds in the filter first. He'd yet to notice the semi-clear water dripping into the pot.   
  
When she first spotted him in the break room, her original plan was to take him to task for not returning her phone call. She hadn't really been optimistic that he'd show up for the cookout, but ignoring the call had been unexpected and out-of-character.   
  
Something was bothering him. After more than a decade of working together, she recognized his body language. Normally, she could have gotten him to talk about it, but now she doubted if he would open up even to her. That was making her nervous. There was a difference between being remote and being anti-social. He was definitely heading towards the latter.   
  
Even if he didn't want to talk to her, she wanted to let him know people cared. When he was ready, he had to know he could count on the team's support.   
  
"Hey, good idea to clean that thing out. It was getting nasty," she said, moving into the room with a smile. The passing look of confusion confirmed her suspicions. He hadn't even noticed he forgot to add the coffee. "We missed you this afternoon."   
  
"Thanks," he said softly, knowing she was trying to spare him the embarrassment of pointing out his mistake.   
  
"I'm sorry I didn't return your call. I didn't notice it until I was getting ready for work."   
  
"No problem. Did you have a good time with your friend?" Catherine asked lightly. Three sentences; that was practically verbose by his standards since Sara left.   
  
"Over all, yes," he said, moving to empty the pot of water.   
  
"Good."   
  
She leaned against the table, watching as he replaced the filter and added coffee this time. "Gil, if I can do anything to help, just let me know, okay? I know you're not a talker, but if you want to, you know I'm here for you. The whole team is. We are your family, even if we are a bit dysfunctional."   
  
"I know, Catherine," he said shortly, moving to grab his lunch from the fridge. Grissom stopped when he saw her hurt expression. He started to leave, paused, and then took off his glasses, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry I missed your party. If I hadn't already had plans, I may have gone. I'm not mad at you, or the others. I have a lot on my mind right now. I don't want to talk, but maybe we can have breakfast later this week."   
  
She watched open-mouthed as he exited the break room and headed to his office. Not only had he talked, he'd acknowledged a personal issue without any prodding. Shaking her head in shock, Catherine waited for the coffee to finish brewing. She needed it to clear her head.   
  
~~~~~   
  
Sinking into his chair, Grissom looked at his salad in confusion. Sara had actually been amused when she saw him packing it. She then complimented him on his weight loss, and flashed him one of her grins. He wasn't sure which surprised him more; than she noticed the few pounds he'd lost or that she wasn't angry with him.   
  
When he couldn't answer her question about how he'd react to being involved with an employee, he thought for certain that she'd at least be hurt. Instead, she seemed to accept it, even if it didn't make her happy.   
  
He was tempted to ignore it. Sara wasn't even sure she could return to the city, let alone the job. Why worry about something that could possibly be a moot point? Grissom let out a sigh. Because the truth would be a factor in her final decision, and it was too important to ignore.   
  
Eating his lunch quickly, he tried to predict how he would react to their relationship if she returned to the lab. In the past, part of his trouble had been he was jealous of the flirting between Sara and various other males. It may have been meaningless, but it did irk him.   
  
Would it be worse now? She may flirt with them, but he'd be the one she reserved her affections for. Of course, she might stop flirting if she knew it bothered him. Or was that something you didn't ask someone to stop? It was harmless, he was certain of that. Besides, jealousy was a sign of possession, not affection. Probably best not to ask her to do that.   
  
The truth was he had no idea how he was going to react. She'd been right; he did find the idea of dating someone under his supervision uncomfortable. The department may be willing to overlook it as long as they were discreet, but there were other issues. Would either of their credibility be called into question because of it? How would he react if she ever placed herself in a dangerous situation? Would he be hesitant to assign her to cases that he felt might upset her?   
  
He let out a sigh. Normally, Catherine would have beaten the truth out of him by now, and given him the advice he needed. He briefly debated asking for her help, but dismissed the idea. As much as he missed his friendship with her, he wasn't ready to talk about this yet.   
  
Grissom chewed his tomato as he considered the options. He had been serious when he offered to move. If it ever came to a choice between Sara and Las Vegas, she'd win. Would she be willing to make the same sacrifice for him and give up her career as a CSI?   
  
Sara loved her job as much as he did, but she didn't have the same options. While highly talented, she didn't have the specialization or years of experience he did. Grissom knew he could get a job in a variety of related fields. She'd have to settle for something totally different.   
  
If she wasn't happy with her new job, he ran the risk of her resenting him for asking her to give it up. But if he couldn't handle their personal and professional lives overlapping, she could resent him for that.   
  
Getting up, he headed for the break room to get coffee. His head was starting to hurt.   
  
~~~~~   
  
Grissom entered the townhouse wearily. He'd called Sara earlier that morning to let her know he'd be late, and not to wait for him before she ate breakfast. Hopefully, she wasn't upset; one advantage of dating a CSI was they understood the hours.   
  
She was sitting on the couch, reading a field guide. By all appearances, she seemed to be in a good mood. Sara didn't look up when he walked in, but just called out, "Nymphalidae."   
  
He gave her a confused look as he crossed the room to collapse beside her. "Brush-footed butterflies?"   
  
"There's nearly three dozen types in Nevada," she said. Without looking up from her reading, she lifted his arm to drape across her shoulders, and leaned against his chest. "And look at the Hesperiidae. How many are there?"   
  
"Including the subfamilies? At least 40. I'm not sure exactly," he yawned. "Why?"   
  
"You didn't mention them earlier," she said with a smirk. "Holding out on me?"   
  
He stared at her for a moment, until he realized what she was talking about. Did she expect another apology? It probably would be a good idea, but he was exhausted. Sensing his anxiety, she squeezed his thigh reassuringly.   
  
"It's okay, baby. I know you're tired. Just letting you know I'm okay with you not having an answer. I don't have answers, either."   
  
"Thanks," he said. Part of his mind was yelling at him that this was a good thing, but another part was pointing out that she used that nickname for Hank.   
  
"You okay? Want something to eat?"   
  
"No, I ate earlier," he said, getting off the couch, and heading to the spare bedroom.   
  
Sara followed, wondering what was wrong. Leaning against the doorframe, she watched as he began to feed his various creatures. "Did I say something wrong? I was just joking about the butterflies."   
  
Grissom glanced up, and felt embarrassed when he saw her nervous look. He'd have to call Philip to talk about his jealousy. "I don't like that name," he admitted softly.   
  
Sara cocked her head in confusion, replaying the conversation to figure out what he was talking about. "Baby? Oh, you heard about that. Sorry."   
  
He shrugged, glad she wasn't upset with him, and went back to work. Looking up, he found Sara staring at some of his beetles. "Want to help?" he asked eagerly.   
  
"Not really, Grissom. You don't have to worry about ever having to share these guys with me."   
  
"I thought you were an animal lover," he teased.   
  
"These aren't animals," she said, giving him a look daring him to contradict her. "If you had a cat or a dog, then you'd have to share. Pets don't have exoskeletons, they have fur. And don't even think of bringing that tarantula over here."   
  
Grissom smiled as he set the hairy spider back in its enclosure. "Well, I think a cat would go insane trying to catch the bugs. And there isn't room for a dog."   
  
She smiled as he finished feeding his maggots. "So, are there any other families of butterflies I should know about?"   
  
He chuckled. "Sara, I know my limits. Besides, if I was going to brag, I'd mention there's more than 100 species of beetles in the Great Basin Desert."   
  
"You would," she said with a laugh. "You probably have most of them. Let's get some rest. It's been a long night."   
  
~~~~~   
  
When he awoke, Grissom was disappointed to find himself alone. Heading into the living room, he found Sara reading the Sunday paper. He didn't comment that it was the employment section.   
  
"Trouble sleeping?"   
  
"No. Slept great, but was getting bored. Didn't want to wake you."   
  
He walked over to give her a kiss, before grabbing some coffee. "What do you want to do today? I could fix us dinner, or we could go out."   
  
"If you don't mind, I'd rather stay in."   
  
"Okay," he said, moving to gather various supplies from the fridge and cabinets.   
  
"Quiche?" Sara asked with a smirk when she saw the crust and eggs.   
  
"It's just fancy scrambled eggs," he said simply. "Besides, I don't know that many vegetarian recipes."   
  
That earned him a peck on the cheek and assistance in preparing the meal. Grissom was relieved that Sara wasn't upset with him, and had spent the evening keeping the conversation light.   
  
Afterwards, they settled back at the dining room table with a bottle of wine and the chess set. "What do you want to do once we're done?" Grissom asked.   
  
Sara smiled. She could tell he was still nervous, and decided to reassure him. "We'll let the winner decide," she said, keeping her tone serious.   
  
Sipping her wine, Sara watched as he intently studied the board. Apparently her hint had been too subtle. She smirked as she moved a pawn into a position to be captured. Once he took the piece, she waited until he looked up to undo the top button of her shirt.   
  
"If you're hot, I can turn up the air conditioning," he offered, turning his attention back to the game.   
  
"That's okay," she said, rolling her eyes. Once again, she maneuvered a pawn into a position to be captured. When he looked up, she undid another button. That got him to lick his lips, but he still didn't seem to catch on.   
  
Grissom kept his attention focused on the board, wishing Sara would just let him lower the temperature. Her blouse revealed enough of her cleavage without her assistance. While the view was enjoyable, it was distracting. He frowned as she sacrificed another pawn and then moved her knight in an exposed position. If she didn't want to play, she should have just said so.   
  
Sliding his bishop to capture her piece, he looked up to tell her they didn't have to play. His mouth went dry. She'd undone the front clasp of her bra. Realization dawned on him; he'd never heard of Strip Chess before. In his shock, he set his piece down too soon, leaving himself open for attack.   
  
Sara smiled and captured his queen. "Pay attention, Grissom. And pay up."   
  
He blinked in confusion and turned his eyes back to the board briefly. Pulling off his socks, he tossed them aside before draining his glass of wine. When she started to chuckle, he realized it was his turn to move. Grissom found it hard to focus on the board; Sara still had her shirt on, but it was barely covering the interesting areas.   
  
He quickly moved a knight, and groaned when it was captured. Sara was better prepared for this. All he had left was his T-shirt, sweatpants and boxers. Pulling off his shirt, he realized he'd made a strategic mistake taking off both socks last time.   
  
When he mentioned this to Sara, she smiled seductively and pulled off her belt, tossing it to join his clothes on the floor. She couldn't believe how flustered he was. It was a definite ego boost to her that she had this affect on him. It was also arousing.   
  
Making sure he was watching, she leaned over the table, enjoying the open look of desire as he watched the better view of her breasts. Calling his name softly, she waited until he looked at her eyes before slowing sliding her jeans off, smiling as he tried to turn to a view that showed her legs.   
  
Grissom's throat was dry again. He turned his attention back to the board. He had already lost his queen; he could purposely lose the game quickly. But he was enjoying the striptease act. Unfortunately, he'd have to sacrifice a piece to get in a better strategic position.   
  
He stood up briefly when Sara took his rook and tried to pull off his sweatpants quickly. He froze when Sara watched him admiringly. His arousal was evident, but the fact she was licking her lips in anticipation made him feel flushed. Sitting back down, he quickly captured her pawn. Waiting for her to finally take off her blouse, he felt the blood rush when she tossed her panties on the pile of clothes instead.   
  
He turned his attention back to the game. It didn't really matter who won this game; he'd end up a winner in the next. With a quick motion, he moved his bishop aside, leaving himself open to being checkmated. He didn't wait until Sara had finished her final move before he went around the table to pull her up.   
  
Their kisses were deep and probing as they quickly shed the last of their clothes. Sara groaned as he kneaded the flesh of her rear, pulling her harder against his heat. The bedroom suddenly seemed too far away.   
  
She eyed the table, but that would be too uncomfortable. She swung her eyes to the living room as Grissom began kissing his way down her neck. The couch was too small, and leather and sweat never made a good combination. Looking down, she saw the cold concrete floor, and grabbed his hand to lead him to the bedroom.   
  
"I'm getting you carpet for your birthday," she muttered. 


	49. Ch 49

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 49  
  
"Want some coffee to go with your sugar?"   
  
Turning her head, Sara gave her ex-advisor an evil glare. He was entirely too chipper for 6:15 on a Monday morning.   
  
"You're in awfully early," she said warily, dumping another package of sugar into her mug. Jimmy wasn't a morning person by choice. She could think of only one reason why he'd willingly be at the lab this early: he wanted details.   
  
Sara knew eventually she'd be grilled about her weekend visit to Las Vegas. It would be a tough discussion, but one she was willing to undergo. She had hoped to have time to unwind first, though. A lot had happened this weekend, and she wanted to process it herself, before his interrogation.   
  
Jimmy was one of the few people she'd never had trouble opening up to. A natural 'people-person', he could help her clarify confusing personal issues. While supportive, he was honest, telling her things she needed to hear, not just what she wanted. Also, he could cut to the heart of a matter quickly, if brutally. But this weekend had been taxing, both mentally and physically. She wasn't ready to talk now.   
  
"Of course I am! Your note said you'd be coming in to work straight from the airport. If you didn't want to chat about your visit with your bug man before the others got here, why did you leave a copy of your itinerary?"   
  
"Because I'm responsible? So you'd know if my flight was delayed?" she offered with a fleeting smile. She'd gone to high school with girls who'd shown less interest in her social life. Well, they would have been less interested if she had had a social life in high school.   
  
"Uh, huh."   
  
Sara ignored the sarcastic inflection, but added another half-package of sugar to her coffee. Jimmy shook his head disapprovingly as she dumped the remainder in after taking an experimental sip. She shot him a warning glare not to start his typical health-food lecture.   
  
The level of curiosity coming from the 46-year-old dean was touching, if somewhat annoying. Right now, she wanted to be alone. She needed the time to process this weekend's events. As much as she appreciated her friend's concern, Sara still made a mental note not to leave a copy of the itinerary of her next visit in two weeks.   
  
A small smile formed as she took another test sip of her coffee. Grissom had told her to keep the key to his townhouse, saying she was welcomed to visit anytime she could get free. Unfortunately, a rendezvous sooner couldn't be accomplished without major rescheduling on both their parts.   
  
'Probably a good idea,' Sara thought. Grissom had wanted her to return on the upcoming weekend, but she didn't feel comfortable with the idea. She wanted a chance to regain more self-control before going back to Las Vegas.   
  
"How much sugar can you add to a cup of coffee before it becomes supersaturated?" he asked when she added yet another package to her mug.   
  
"A lot more than this," Sara stated in a matter-of-fact manner. The drink wasn't sweet enough to make her teeth hurt, but the sugar level should be enough to keep her functioning. She'd only missed one night's sleep, but it had been an exhausting weekend.   
  
Mentally, she had been stressed by the flight into Vegas, and later by her snapping at Grissom. He had been very sweet about it, but it still bothered her. The lack of control was frustrating. Luckily, her reactions were milder and the stress didn't last as long.   
  
Physically, spending two nights with Grissom when he felt he needed to prove himself was more exhausting than working a week straight of overtime. He seemed determined to show her physically what he had trouble vocalizing. While it had its benefits, it was rough going into work afterwards.   
  
After their last round of lovemaking, there hadn't been time for a nap before she had to get ready for her flight back to Santa Barbara. Instead, they had cuddled as they worked out the plans of her next visit. Now she was paying for it.   
  
"I've got some work to do," she said, giving her boss a brief smile. Pushing off the counter, she started walking back to her desk. "Don't you?" she asked pointedly when he followed.   
  
"Not really."   
  
She turned, meaning to tell him to back off, at least until the caffeine had time to enter her bloodstream, but winced as her muscles started complaining. Jimmy's snickering let her know he noticed, even if he ignored her stare.   
  
"Say, I was going to head over to the campus gym during lunch. You should tag along. We can work the stair machines," he joked bawdily.   
  
"Now you know why I didn't re-enroll in grad school," she growled. Sara picked up her pace out of the break room, willing her muscles to behave. The man may be brilliant, but he could miss hints a mile wide; she'd rather not talk now.   
  
"Well, the bug guy definitely seems to have mastered the mechanics of basic biology, but I never thought you'd settle for that."   
  
"Jimmy!" Sara whirled dangerously to face her colleague. He was a friend, but there was a limit to how much she'd take from him. His insights were usually accurate, and she valued their friendship, but he had made no secret of the fact that he didn't care for Grissom.   
  
"Sorry!" he laughed, holding out his hands in surrender. "Just joking. I know you have to see something more in this guy. Now stop avoiding the question."   
  
Shaking her head, Sara crossed the room to her desk. Taking her seat, she wasn't surprised when Jimmy hopped up on her desk with an impatient look. Her current boss could be the poster child for the absentminded professor, but when something caught his attention, he'd pursue it relentlessly. He'd be irritating if he didn't look so much like a lost puppy. Knowing it was a losing battle, she hoped to satisfy him with a cursory answer.   
  
"Well?"   
  
"It was nice," Sara said, letting out a disgusted sigh.   
  
"'Nice' is a visit with your great-aunt. A long-distance trip to see your bug guy needs a better adjective."   
  
"My 'bug guy'? Jimmy, he has a name," she said curtly.   
  
He merely tsked in a disapproving manner. "A name I notice you don't even use. You'll have to excuse me for being concerned. What kind of man steals my most promising student, but she won't even use his given name once they're lovers?"   
  
"What makes you think … Never mind," she said firmly. "And he's the type of man who doesn't like 'Gil' as a first name. And he didn't 'steal' me. I make my own decisions. You should know me well enough to know that, Jimmy."   
  
"Uh, huh."   
  
"I told you when I took this position I doubted I'd be staying. It worked out well: you needed some help the same time I needed to get away from Vegas for a while," Sara said in a calm voice. As annoying as he could be, he'd also come through for her when she needed help.   
  
"Uh, huh."   
  
"Jimmy, you really need to work on your vocabulary," she said shortly, turning on her computer and checking her voice mail. He hopped off her desk, but Sara's relief was short-lived. Jimmy moved a chair from around the desk to sit beside her. His demeanor became serious as he settled into the seat.   
  
"Look, I'm glad I could help. That's what I'm trying to do now."   
  
"Jimmy …" she started, only to be silenced by the friendly hand moving to rest on top of hers.   
  
"Hey, trust me, okay? Just let me finish. I'm worried about you. No offense, kiddo, but you were a mess when you first got here. You've made a lot of improvement, but all last week it was obvious you weren't looking forward to this visit. The thought of seeing him made you nervous."   
  
Sara turned to give him an incredulous stare. "I wasn't nervous about seeing him," she stated, hoping it wasn't true. The thought of returning to Vegas had been a little unsettling, but it hadn't been enough to be noticeable. Had it?   
  
"Okay," Jimmy said kindly, noticing her discomfort. "But you were upset about going. If it wasn't him, it was the city. Or the thought about going back to being a CSI. Have you figured out what you're going to do if you don't want to go back to that job?"   
  
"No, not really," she sighed. "I miss it. I really do. That must sound weird. Missing a job where you deal with the worst parts of humanity every day."   
  
"You were doing something to help people. Plus, you can't stand to have a puzzle left unsolved. You combined both. The trick is to find something else that lets you still do both."   
  
"Like what?" Sara asked hopefully.   
  
"You're really good with computers. Why not go into computer forensics?"   
  
"I guess," she said without much enthuasism. The thought of being stuck behind a desk all day wasn't appealing. "I'm not sure I wouldn't get bored with it. And I don't have the skills."   
  
"You'd have no trouble getting them. There are a lot of online Master's programs. You could stay at home, and work on it. Probably could work from home, too. Lots of companies are outsourcing their computer security. You could mix up the type of things you do."   
  
"I don't know, Jimmy. I don't think I want to isolate myself any more than I already do," she said slowly. The Donna Marks case had driven home the point she was too much like the shut-in. It would be easy to hide away in her home, and avoid the pressures.   
  
He watched as she shifted uncomfortably. Sara hadn't told him everything that had happened, but he knew it was bothering her enough to consider giving up a career she loved. Deciding it was time to relieve some of the tension, he punched her arm in a friendly manner.   
  
"Well, you could always stay at home and raise a swarm of little buglets," he teased.   
  
Sara gave him a wide-eyed look before starting to laugh. The mental image of Grissom, on the couch, covered in little kids was too amusing.   
  
"'Swarms'? No way. I'm might be willing to have two, maybe, three, kids, but there's not going to be any 'swarms'! I'm not a termite queen. Besides, it's way too early for us to be thinking about kids."   
  
"Why do you say that? And let's be honest: if you want to have kids, you don't have a lot of time left."   
  
"Jimmy, we just started seeing each other," she sighed, ignoring the time comment. It was a fact she'd been thinking about a lot over the past few weeks.   
  
"So? How long do most couples know each other before they get married and start families? Two, maybe three years? You've worked for this guy for more than three years. You knew him for years before that. You should know him well enough by now."   
  
"Knowing someone as a friend doesn't mean you know them that intimately," she said softly.   
  
"How well do you actually know him?"   
  
"Well enough, Jimmy."   
  
"Really? I don't mean things that go on a resume. I'm sure you know his educational background, his job skills. But what do you know about him as a person? How many brothers and sisters does he have?"   
  
Sara looked away, and took a long sip of her coffee. "I really don't know. It never came up."   
  
"Listen to yourself, kiddo. Friends bring things up. I knew your brother's life story three months after we met. You know my nieces and nephews. What does his father do for a living?"   
  
She flashed him a brief, angry look. "Jimmy, he's not you. You like talking about yourself. Grissom is introverted. Anyone who has ever met him could tell you that. He doesn't volunteer personal information. But he's a good man. He even offered to move if I decide not to return to Vegas."   
  
"Really? That's one thing to his credit, then."   
  
"He has a lot to his credit. You just don't know him well enough."   
  
"And you do? Okay, so he doesn't volunteer information. Does he avoid answering questions?"   
  
"Sometimes," she admitted. This past weekend had proven that point, but Grissom had been bothered that he couldn't answer her question about their working together. "He doesn't always express himself well, or quickly. It doesn't mean he's unfeeling or secretive."   
  
"Are you sure? Because I know that type of man, Sara. Some people are shy, some are introverted, and some just never trust others. They keep themselves hidden to avoid pain. But that also makes them distant. That type never really completely trusts anyone else. He'll never totally let you in."   
  
"Jimmy, I know you don't like him. He's … unique. His bad traits are more obvious than the good ones. But they're there; you just have to look. You're wrong about him," she stated.   
  
"I hope I am. Really. Listen, nothing would make me happier than for you two to live happily ever after. I want you to be happy, and if this guy can do that, great. But I want you to be realistic, too. A person can modify their behavior, but they never really change."   
  
"I fell in love with the man he is," she said simply.   
  
"Do you know how he feels?"   
  
"He loves me, too. He admitted it first."   
  
"Were you in bed at the time?"   
  
"Don't push your luck, Jimmy! It wasn't like that," she snapped, closing her eyes as she tried to calm her temper.   
  
"I'm not trying to be crude. Really," he said kindly. "But we both know that some guys only say it after sex, and they only say it then because it's expected."   
  
"It wasn't like that," she repeated harshly, letting out a long sigh. Sara rolled her neck, trying to loosen her muscles.   
  
"I know he's no Prince Charming. Hell, I'm no Sleeping Beauty, either. Do I wish he was more open? Yeah. Will he ever be? Probably not. I know that, Jimmy. I accept that. He accepts my faults. That's saying a lot, considering how I've been! You're not in a position to judge him," she said hotly.   
  
Seeing that the conversation was making Sara upset, he got up to leave. Placing a friendly hand on her shoulder, he asked one last question before leaving her alone.   
  
"Okay, as long as you know that, and accept that. Just think about one thing, kiddo. If you're so sure about him, why were you nervous about seeing him?" 


	50. Ch 50

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 50   
  
Reaching his hand out, Grissom moved it back and forth, but was unsuccessful in his quest. Opening a sleepy eye, he realized Sara wasn't there. Rolling onto his back, he stretched as conscious thought gradually returned. After only two nights together, he was already used to her being there. Of course, her scent still lingered on the pillows, tantalizing him as he slept.   
  
He closed his eyes, smiling, as memories of the weekend played out in his mind. She had been incredibly responsive. And imaginative. Chess held a whole new interest for him now. When he found himself responding to the mental images, Grissom smiled. He hadn't felt this young in ages.  
  
Kicking off the covers, he moved his hand down his stomach to his growing desire. He stroked himself as he recalled the feel of Sara's hands and lips on his body as she sought to please him. The look of desire in her eyes as he brought her over the edge.  
  
Licking his lips, he increased the pressure and speed as he remembered her whispered words of love, the way it felt to settle into her depths. Picking up the pace again, Grissom thought of her moans of pleasure as he moved within her, her nails raking down his back as she climaxed, her walls caressing him.  
  
His own release came as Sara's encouragements to not hold back echoed in his mind.  
  
Catching his breath, a smile formed on Grissom's face. Letting out a wistful sigh, he headed to the shower. It would be a long two weeks before she returned. At least he had a lot of memories to last until then.  
  
A slight frown formed as he stepped into the spray of hot water. It didn't have to be that long, but Sara hadn't wanted to return the next weekend. He doubted it was just the travel inconvenience behind her decision. Grissom tried to recall anything that would explain her hesitance.   
  
The flight out had been stressful for her, but the odds of being on a second plane with someone who would insist on proclaiming her deeds were slim. Of course, the probability of it happening once had been low. Other modes of transportation weren't likely to help. It was too long a drive for just a weekend visit, and there was no guarantee of not being recognized by a passenger on a train.   
  
Of course, he probably hadn't helped. It wasn't like he was trying to avoid her question. He honestly didn't know how he'd react if Sara returned to work at the lab. There was no real empirical evidence on which to draw a conclusion.   
  
Except his past behavior towards her.   
  
Groaning, he turned his back into the spray. It was amazing she trusted him at all. She'd certainly been surprised at his offer to move. He needed to take some sort of action to make sure Sara knew he was serious about their relationship. All he needed to do was figure out what.   
  
Getting out of the shower, he quickly dressed and ate. There would be a backlog of paperwork waiting for him tonight, and he didn't feel like staying in the townhouse alone. Sitting down at the computer, he decided to send Sara an answer to her question before heading into the office. Putting it off wouldn't help.   
  
~~~~~   
  
Flipping through her journal, Sara let out a disgusted sigh. The evidence was right there, if she had bothered to notice it.   
  
When Philip Kane had told her to start the journal, she agreed, but didn't place much faith in it. Her initial entries had been more a matter of record keeping. She set up a code to monitor her stress reactions. The frequency and intensity of her outbursts, nightmares and mood swings were indicated by various measurements, neatly keyed on the first page.   
  
Later, she found herself starting to add personal information. Gradually, it became clear why Kane had recommended the action. It was like having someone you could talk to, but not have to worry about their reactions to your comments.   
  
Looking on her entries for the week leading up to the visit, Sara saw her current boss's assessment had been accurate. The idea of visiting Las Vegas had stressed her. A frustrated growl escaped from her lips as she recalled the conversation. She knew Jimmy meant well, but he hadn't brought up any points she hadn't already thought about.   
  
Except why the thought of the trip bothered her.   
  
Partially, she knew it was a reaction to seeing Grissom. They were still very early in their relationship. Jimmy had been right: there was a lot she didn't know about him. Nick loved sports, birds and talked all the time about his extended family and friends. Warrick was an athlete and musician, even if he was shy about his talent. She knew more about Catherine than she cared to know.   
  
She did love Grissom, but she had lingering doubts about him. He'd backed off unexpectedly one too many times. He'd been wonderful, but she knew it would take a little while for her nervousness to go away. That was her problem, though.   
  
She also knew part of the problem was Vegas itself. It was the scene of the crime, in a sense. Being there brought back memories she was trying to forget.   
  
Mainly, Sara finally admitted, she was afraid of her own response. The other two concerns factored into that, but she didn't know how she'd react around Grissom or in the city. A bad reaction could easily have ruined her relationship with him.   
  
Looking back on it, she decided she probably psyched herself out. When she'd been recognized on the flight, she was already tense. It didn't take much for her control to be fried. Now, she knew she could handle it, if not well, at least well enough to cope. On the next trip, she'd be careful not to make herself anxious before the flight.   
  
A quick check of the computer revealed no messages from Grissom. She considered calling, but didn't want to make him feel rushed to provide an answer. Besides, she was beat. Yawning, she headed off to take a nap.   
  
~~~~~~   
  
"I cannot believe this shit! Pardon the pun," Brass growled as he leaned into the young man's face. "Do you have any idea the trouble you're in?"   
  
"It was just a joke," he sputtered, looking over at the other men for reassurance. Getting none, he cowered further into his chair. "I didn't think he'd call the cops. We pull stunts like that all the time. It was just cow guts."   
  
"Intestines," Grissom corrected in a friendly tone, looking over his glasses at the young man. "And your former boss doesn't seem to share your fondness for practical jokes. I believe he said that was why you were fired. 'Punk-ass troublemaker.' Ring any cow bells?"   
  
"I quit," he muttered.   
  
"That's not what you put on your unemployment insurance claim," Brass said with a fake smile. "Can we add fraud to your charges?"   
  
"I'll pay to clean out his pizza oven! Honestly, it was just a joke!"   
  
"Thought it be good for a belly laugh?" Grissom queried with a smile.   
  
Nick and Warrick exchanged startled looks. Two quips in one night?   
  
"Get him out of here," Brass growled to an officer, who escorted the joker to booking, with Grissom quickly following.   
  
"Guess that visit from his old friend put him in a better mood," Nick teased.   
  
"Is that what they're calling it now," Brass asked dryly.   
  
Warrick and Nick turned to stare at the police captain as he headed to the door. Brass paused to point in the direction Grissom left. "That is the mood of a man who is getting some."   
  
"No way," Nick said softly, shaking his head. "You think it was an old girlfriend?"   
  
"With Grissom, who knows," Warrick replied as they left the interrogation room.   
  
"Man, I can't believe he'd do that."   
  
"Do what, Nick? How long did you expect him to wait? What's the longest you've ever gone after a breakup?"   
  
"It's not the same, and you know it!"   
  
Warrick sighed. "I feel for him. Both of them. But if it wasn't going to work, it's better they found out early. Let them move on."   
  
"I guess. But what if Sara comes back?"   
  
"I don't know. Do you think she's going to? This is Sara we're talking about. Have you ever seen her indecisive before? If she hasn't made up her mind yet, I'm thinking she's not coming back," Warrick sighed.   
  
"I hope you're wrong, man."   
  
"So do I."   
  
~~~~~   
  
Grissom looked up from his evidence as Greg nervously knocked, waving a menu.   
  
"Say, we're getting together a order for Chinese. You want something?"   
  
Much to the lab tech's surprise, Grissom agreed. Stepping into the room, he waited as his supervisor scanned the menu. Nick had told him about Brass's comments. Personally, Greg doubted anyone would get over her that quickly, but if it were true, then he'd have another chance with Sara.   
  
"I heard you had a visitor this weekend. Do anything wild? Ride roller coasters?" he ventured cautiously.   
  
"We played chess," Grissom replied after a moment's thought. A hint of an odd grin briefly appeared on his face.   
  
"Well, you know, I was the captain of my college chess team. We could play, sometime, if you want."   
  
"Somehow, Greg, I don't think it'd be the same," Grissom said, startling the lab tech with a chuckle.   
  
~~~~   
  
"Welcome back to the land of the living."   
  
Grissom looked up from his paperwork to see Catherine smirking at him.   
  
"I hear you actually joined the others for lunch, and you did it on a day I was working a case. What are the odds?"   
  
"Of you working a case? Good, I hope."   
  
Catherine gave him an amused look. "You're in a good mood tonight. Any chance of this becoming a regular occurrence?"   
  
Grissom merely shrugged as he took off his glasses. He knew he hadn't been fair to his friend. "After the way I've been, I'm surprised you'd be interested."   
  
"You're a friend, Gil. Why does that surprise you?"   
  
"'I no doubt deserved my enemies, but I don't believe I deserved my friends.' Walt Whitman," he quoted.   
  
"You're amazing. Doesn't matter the situation, but you can always pull out some literary reference that fits," she said with a laugh. "It's a shame you can't express yourself as easily. I think you'd save yourself a lot of pain if you could," she observed softly.   
  
Grissom gave her a curious look as she left him to finish his paperwork. She was probably right. He turned to his e-mail quickly, not expecting a message from Sara. He hadn't realized until after he sent his response that she would have already left the lab. For a moment, he thought of forwarding another copy to her personal address, but he doubted she would want to read his answer twice.   
  
As the sun began to creep over the horizon, a plan formed in Grissom's mind. Catherine had been right. He might as well play his strengths.   
  
~~~~~   
  
Finishing her journal entry, Sara looked up to see Jimmy crossing the quad. She'd developed the habit of eating her lunch on one of the benches under the trees lining the courtyard. Normally she ate with some of the other lab workers, but today she wanted to be alone.   
  
Grissom's answer had been waiting for her when she came into work that morning.   
  
"Sara,   
  
"I am sorry I couldn't answer your question while you were here. It was something I should have told you in person.   
  
"Professionally, I have to say I want you back in the lab. You're one of the best CSIs with whom I have ever worked. We all miss you, and hope you will come back.   
  
"Personally, I want you to be happy. If returning to Las Vegas doesn't seem possible, then I am serious about relocating.   
  
"I don't know how I'll react if you do come back to the lab. I have nothing on which to base a prediction. I know that's not much of an answer, but it's the best I can do. I won't lie to you, even to reassure you. I can promise that if it does become a problem, I'll do everything I can to deal with it.   
  
"Love,   
  
"Grissom."   
  
She closed her eyes as she thought about his response. It wasn't as optimistic as she hoped, or as bad as she feared.   
  
"I think you better come inside."   
  
Jimmy offered her a hand up when she opened her eyes. His expression was unreadable.   
  
"Is something wrong?"   
  
"I don't know," he said cautiously.   
  
Walking into the lobby, he grabbed her arm to lead her to the receptionist's desk. He grinned as the secretary pushed a potted miniature red rose bush and a FedEx package towards her.   
  
Sara smirked when she read the card. "From Grissom."   
  
"Verbose, isn't he?" Jimmy quipped.   
  
Giving him a mock-glare, she opened the package, surprised to find a book of poetry. A sheet of paper was lodged inside. Opening the book to the marker, she smiled as she read the note.   
  
"Sara,   
  
"I'm not any good about expressing myself, so I decided to borrow the words of the masters.   
  
"Love, Grissom"   
  
Turning her attention to the book, she saw it was "A Red, Red Rose" by Robert Burns.   
  
"Seems there might be hope for your bug guy, after all," Jimmy said with a friendly smile. 


	51. Ch 51

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 51  
  
Friday morning found Grissom yawning deeply as he paid the cab driver and headed towards to the lab with a smile. A friend of Nick's had scored tickets for some sporting event next week, and he had offered to switch nights off so the younger man could attend.   
  
His motive hadn't been altruistic; the schedule change gave Grissom both Friday and Saturday nights off. He had quickly called Sara to see if she was up for a visit, then arranged for plane tickets. After work, he had just enough time to head home to pack a bag and get to the airport.   
  
They would head to her place for lunch, and he'd take a nap while she went back to work. Tonight, they'd go out to dinner and a movie. Tomorrow would be spent on other diversions. Unfortunately, on such short notice he'd been unable to find a flight back on Sunday, and would have to leave late Saturday.   
  
Yawning again, he headed into the lab's lobby. Noticing Sara and her co-workers excitedly heading down the hallway, Grissom smiled as he watched. She was beautiful - relaxed, rested and obviously in a great mood. Seeing her improved disposition made him happy. Spotting him, she flashed him a toothy grin, and walked over to hug him.   
  
"What's going on?" he asked in amusement, as she pulled him down the hallway.   
  
"Erwin had kittens."   
  
Grissom turned to look at her in confusion. He knew he was tired, but that comment made no sense. Sara was watching him expectantly. "Do I even want to know what kind of experiments you're doing here?"   
  
She gave him another grin as she squeezed his hand. "A reference you don't get? I can't believe it. Erwin is a stray they found living under one of the buildings. We adopted him. Except 'he' turned out to be a 'she'. Erweena didn't sound like a good name, so we didn't change it."   
  
He smiled at her exuberance, but he still didn't understand the Erwin reference.   
  
"Erwin Schrödinger developed one of the most famous paradoxes in theoretical physics," she prompted.   
  
"The one about the cat in a box? It's neither dead nor alive?"   
  
"That's the one. Denny's wife is a vet. He just brought them back from their first check-up," she said, pulling him into a supply room, pointing out the makeshift feline nursery set up in a large cardboard box.   
  
Jimmy gave them a bemused look as he picked up the runt of the litter – Sara's favorite – and handed it to her. Grissom's expression softened as he watched her cuddling the kitten, both enjoying the attention. Reaching over, he scratched the ugliest bundle of fur he'd ever seen between the ears, triggering a loud purr.   
  
"You seem to have that effect," Sara murmured, giving him a saucy look. Grissom shot her an embarrassed look as Jimmy started snickering. "I think she likes you."   
  
"No one's taken Tesla yet, Sara," he ex-advisor pointed out.   
  
"I know. But my lease won't let me have a cat," she answered sadly.   
  
"Aren't they too young to take from their mother?" Grissom asked, watching as Sara reluctantly put the kitten back.   
  
"Yeah, but the others have already been adopted out. We'll keep them here until they're old enough to leave their mom," Jimmy answered. Giving Sara a subtle wink, he turned to Grissom, grinning wildly. "When are you two going to start your own family?"   
  
When she saw Grissom's panicked look, she flashed an angry look. "Jimmy, what we do, or don't do, isn't any of your business," she said hotly. "Come on, let's go get some lunch."   
  
On the short walk to her apartment, Grissom tried to judge her mood. She seemed to fluctuate between anger and embarrassment. As she opened the door, Sara let out a sigh. "I'm sorry about that. He means well, but he doesn't know when to butt out."   
  
"Do you want kids?"   
  
A brief smile and small shrug were her only answers before she turned to the small kitchen area to grab sandwich makings. Walking up behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders, repeating the question.   
  
"I don't know. It'd be nice, I guess, to at least consider it. Not now," she added quickly. "It's way too soon for that conversation."   
  
Grissom wished he could see her eyes. Her words said one thing, but her tone suggested another. Wasn't she sure herself or was she worried about his reaction? Kahill's question had caught him by surprise. It wasn't something Sara had mentioned to him yet. Had she talked about it with him?   
  
He moved his hands down to her waist, pulling her back against him, kissing her neck. A family? That was another question he didn't have an answer for.   
  
~~~~~   
  
"You are so dead!" Sara promised, placing her hands on Jimmy's desk and leaning in close. "And I know how to hide the evidence!"   
  
"Enjoy your lunch?" he asked distractedly.   
  
"No. It was very awkward. Thanks a hell of a lot!"   
  
The dean looked up from his paperwork, and noticed her angry tone from the first time. He gave her a friendly smile; she should be grateful he broached the subject for her.   
  
"What? Look, it took the two of you years to even go out on a date. At the rate you're going, you'll both be retired before one of you mentioned it, and then it'd be too late. Don't you think you should know the answer before you get any more involved?"   
  
"Jimmy, I don't even sure how I feel about having a family," she exclaimed, dropping into one of his office chairs. "I swear, if you scared him off …"   
  
He merely deepened his smile, prompting Sara to glare harder. Jimmy knew he'd embarrassed her, but that was a small price to pay. Neither she nor Grissom were talkers; someone had to give them an occasional push. Besides, the bug guy wasn't as bad as he initially seemed. He probably could make Sara happy.   
  
"Kiddo, the man's flying in just to spend a little bit of time with you. He didn't deny wanting kids. I don't think a question like that would scare him. If it does, you're better off knowing now."   
  
She flashed him an exasperated look as his phone starting to ring, leaving the room with a string of curses and threats. If she had stayed a little longer, Sara would have seen the amused look on his face as the conversation progressed.   
  
~~~~~   
  
Grissom woke the next morning to the sound of rain, and Sara watching him admiringly. She leaned in to kiss him, slowly running her hands over his chest. Snuggling in closer, her hands continued their exploration over his shoulders and arms.   
  
Feeling a bit guilty, she moved her head so she could watch his expression. Her upcoming plan wasn't as direct as she preferred, but it was the only one she could think of. She wanted to get to know Grissom better, but understood he wasn't comfortable talking about himself. If she could get him used to answering trivial questions, maybe he'd grow to trust her.   
  
"Did you play baseball when you were younger?"   
  
"No, I wasn't much of an athlete. Why?"   
  
"How did you get to be so strong?" she asked, moving her hands across his upper back.   
  
"Well, I play golf and swim on occasion," he said, enjoying both the gentle massage and her appreciation of his body. "The job requires a bit of physical effort, too. I used to ride my bike a lot when I was a kid."   
  
Smiling, she ran a hand under the sheets and along the back of his thigh. "Nice muscle definition. Roll over."   
  
Once he was on his stomach, she began a thorough massage of his back. This was yielding results. She continued to ask him questions about his golf scores and preferences in clubs, until he rolled over, pulling her against his chest.   
  
"You're in pretty good shape yourself," he whispered, kissing her neck softly as his hands caressed her back.   
  
"Used to surf as a kid."   
  
"I didn't know that," he said, pausing briefly.   
  
"I was terrible at it. Never talk about it," she sighed as his hands became more curious. "I've started going to the campus gym a couple nights a week. Keeps me out of here," she said, nodding to indicate the tiny apartment.   
  
His hands ceased their travels as he rolled them over to their sides. They had all day for this. Right now, Grissom wanted to know how her recovery was going. He brushed a lock of hair from her face, and then gently stroked her cheek.   
  
"What else are you doing? You said you were making an effort to get some hobbies. I noticed the seedlings," he nodded in the direction of her lone window.   
  
"Jimmy's good for something," she muttered darkly. "He gave me seeds from his citrus trees. They'll make nice bonsai once they're bigger. A bunch of us go to the movies, and I go out to dinner with some of the gang at least once a week. I'm tutoring some of the undergrads. There are free concerts all the time, but most aren't very good. I catch some of the different activities on campus."   
  
"Sounds like you're keeping yourself from getting bored," he said lightly.   
  
"Grissom, I've been bored out of my mind ever since I got pulled from the field," she whispered. "I want to go back to being a CSI. I don't think coming back to the city will be a problem. At least not a permanent one. I'm still nervous about not being able to handle the job, though."   
  
"There's no rush. And you don't have to come back, not if you don't want to," he insisted.   
  
"I want to," she repeated, running a hand over his back. "If I can't go back to the field, I think I'm going to take another job in the department. Public Affairs wants me to join them."   
  
He lifted himself on one arm so he could watch her better. "Public Affairs?" he asked in surprise.   
  
"I know. Can you see me getting dressed up every day?"   
  
"I meant you'd be bored with that work. It wouldn't challenge you. And you look nice when you dress up." Grissom paused at her expression. He shifted nervously when he realized his mistake. "I mean, you look nice when you're not dressed. Dressed up," he said, dropping his head when Sara began laughing. "You're just beautiful."   
  
"Thanks."   
  
He smiled tenderly as she blushed at his simple statement of fact. Wrapping his arm under her, he rolled onto his back, pulling her along.   
  
"What about that accident survivor's group? Still going to meetings?"   
  
"No," she said, with a shrug. "That was a waste of time. I quit going to those while I was still in Vegas."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"I didn't fit in. The others lost limbs, were paralyzed or had their families or friends killed in accidents. 'I wasn't hurt at all, but I'm stressed out' really didn't seem to be in the same ballpark."   
  
"Is anything helping?" he asked softly.   
  
Sara smiled and pressed closer against him. "Well, there's this guy. He does these really sweet things, like sending me plants and poetry."   
  
"I seem to recall you thanking him for that last night," he chuckled.   
  
"I just hope he knows how much stuff like that means to me," she said, raining soft kisses on his chest.   
  
"He probably hopes you know he wishes he could say the things you should be hearing," Grissom said, lifting her head so he could watch her expression.   
  
She laughed as she parsed out the sentence. "There are more ways of communicating than with words."   
  
"But some things should be said," Grissom replied, unwilling to drop the subject.   
  
"He manages to say some pretty good things from time-to-time," she said, lifting herself on one arm so she had a better view of his face. "In fact, he's been known to leave me speechless on occasion."   
  
"Are those occasions enough?"   
  
"Well, I wouldn't complain if they were more frequent, but they are incredible when they do come," she said before leaning in for another kiss.   
  
"What left you speechless?" Grissom asked eagerly.   
  
"A couple of things. Remember when I asked you since when were you interested in beauty?"   
  
"Since I met you," he replied softly, running his fingers through her hair.   
  
"That was a good one," she said, moving to nuzzle his neck. "'The lab needs you.' wasn't a good one," she said in mock-warning.   
  
"I'll never tell you the truth, again," he deadpanned, earning him a playful punch. "Ow. Would 'I need you' have been a better answer?"   
  
"Is it the truth?" Sara asked quietly.   
  
"Yes," he whispered, cradling her face. A smile formed as he realized she was speechless.   
  
Shaking her head, Sara ran her hand over his chest, before reaching down to pull off the covers. It was Grissom's turn to be speechless as she began kissing her way down his body. 


	52. Ch 52

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 52  
  
Sara sat in the rental car, chugging down the last of the large cup of coffee. She wanted to at least seem awake when she went in to greet Grissom. Showing up in bad shape two visits in a row would just upset him.   
  
She'd been looking forward to this trip, and felt the idea of returning to Vegas wasn't bothering her. But her sleep had been shattered the last two nights by nightmares, the first time in weeks they'd occurred on consecutive evenings.   
  
Was it just a coincidence? Thinking back over the last week, Sara couldn't remember any indications that she was nervous about returning. The flight didn't bother her, and she had no trouble going into a crowded convenience store for her caffeine supply, so it didn't seem like the idea of public attention bothered her.   
  
Sara swallowed more of the bitter brew, hoping it wasn't the idea of seeing Grissom that had triggered the nightmares. True, one of them involved waking up in a roach-filled bed, but he'd been very understanding about her squeamishness around his pets.   
  
He'd been very understanding about a lot of things. Sara smiled as she finished her drink and popped a breath mint. His visit last weekend had been nice. For the most part. There were a few times when it seemed he wanted to talk about something, but then he had backed off quickly.   
  
Sara suspected he felt like he needed to say something about Jimmy's question involving kids. Personally, she was glad he hadn't brought it up; that was one issue she wasn't ready to talk about. They weren't anywhere near the point of making that type of decision, no matter what Jimmy thought.   
  
A curious look crossed her face as she gathered up her bags. "Bring something nice," was all Grissom would tell her during a phone conversation the day before. She hoped the outfit would do. Lacking any specifics, she decided to play it safe with a simple black dress.   
  
Sara knocked lightly as she let herself in, finding Grissom sitting on the couch. His smile was short-lived. Crossing the room, he took her bags and gently escorted her to the couch.   
  
"Are you okay?" he asked softly.   
  
"Just tired," she said, pressing herself closer to him.   
  
Grissom slipped his arm around her shoulder. His worry increased when he felt the tightness in her muscles. Were they pushing things? She was much more relaxed when he went to visit her in California. He began to gently rub her back, eliciting a sigh from Sara.   
  
"Anything wrong?"   
  
"Not really. I'm fine."   
  
"Sara, you don't look fine," Grissom stated softly.   
  
"Just haven't slept well," she said with a shrug. "Nightmares."   
  
"Come on," Grissom said, pulling her off the couch. "You're going to bed."   
  
"You joining me?" Sara asked with a smirk.   
  
"It wouldn't do my ego any good to have you fall asleep on me," he said lightly. "Besides, I have to work tonight."   
  
"Spoilsport," she said with a yawn, stopping suddenly. Pulling away from Grissom, she turned around, quickly scanning the main living area of the apartment. The bookcases were all over the place. "Redecorating?"   
  
"Not successfully," he sighed.   
  
"Why do you have a fridge under your desk?"   
  
"My blood bank," he said. "It's the only place it would fit."   
  
Remembering her reaction to his experiments, Grissom had purchased the small refrigerator to store them in. Once home, he realized he had no idea where to put it. The kitchen didn't have the floor space. He didn't trust the wiring in the spare bedroom to handle the appliance, since there was already an abundance of fixtures running his various habitats. Even he knew better than to put his experiments in the master bedroom.   
  
The only other option was the main living area. He had always liked the spaciousness the open floor plan gave, but now it was a deterrent. There weren't any corners to tuck things into. He'd tried moving the bookcases to partition off part of the room, but had only succeeded in blocking the flow of air, creating an overheated corner and giving himself a backache.   
  
"Grissom," Sara said with a brief shake of her head. Her reaction on her last visit had been embarrassing enough. It was sweet that he did this, but she wished it hadn't been necessary. "You didn't have to do that. I'll pay for it."   
  
"You don't have to do that," he countered, shooing her back towards the bedroom.   
  
"If you want to fight about this, I have to warn you, I'm going to win," she said between yawns.   
  
"We're not going to fight. I want you to feel at home here," he said, moving to pull back the covers on the bed as she went to unpack her bags. Once she had her pajamas out, Grissom turned her around to start undressing her.   
  
"This is more like it," Sara said, wrapping her arms around his neck. He merely gave her a pointed look as he reached over to grab her nightclothes. "You really are a spoilsport."   
  
He peppered her hair with kisses as he slipped the pajamas on her. Tucking her into bed, Grissom leaned over to give her a light kiss. "Tomorrow, we can play all you want."   
  
"Promise?"   
  
"Yes. But we have dinner reservations for 7 p.m."   
  
"Sweet," she said, before falling to sleep.   
  
~~~~~   
  
Sara managed three hours of sleep before the ringing of the phone woke her up. Staggering into the living room she stopped herself just in time from answering it. True to her fears, the call turned out to be from an off-duty Brass, asking Grissom to call him when he got off work.   
  
He probably wouldn't appreciate her announcing their relationship that way. From her e-mails with the others, she knew he still hadn't told them the truth. Would he expect them to keep it a secret if she returned to the lab? She didn't have any problems with being discreet, but she wasn't going to lie to her friends.   
  
Sara checked the clock; Grissom must have just left for work a little while ago. Knowing she wouldn't get back to sleep, she headed to the kitchen to brew some coffee. Rummaging through the kitchen drawers, she found the tape measure, and proceeded to make a scaled drawing of the townhouse and its furniture. If he wanted to rearrange the furniture, the least she could do was make it easier on him.   
  
When Grissom came home the next morning, she surprised him by joining him when he went to bed, taking a short nap. True to his word, the afternoon was pleasant, but they had stopped early enough to get ready for their date.   
  
Sara studied herself in the mirror, turning her head first one way, then the other. She seldom got this dressed up, and always wondered if she did an acceptable job. Everything seemed okay. Putting on her jewelry, she left the bathroom.   
  
"You know, 'something nice' is a little vague for a woman. You guys can wear the same suit to just about any occasion. We can't," she teased as she entered the bedroom. From Grissom's expression, she gathered he thought she looked acceptable. Walking over, she reached up to straighten his tie. "You look fine."   
  
"You're beautiful," he stated.   
  
She smiled, and then licked her lip nervously. Grissom's idea to go out for dinner was nice, but it did surprise her. "Where are we going? I mean, we won't be very discreet if we're seen in public."   
  
"I doubt we'll run into anyone from work at L'Bonhomme," he said, pulling out the gift certificate Sara had given him a lifetime ago. "And if they do, I'll just tell them I'm trying to seduce you back to the lab."   
  
"Is that what this has been about?" Sara asked in a mock-challenge.   
  
"Of course. Why else would I go to this trouble?"   
  
"I can show you later, if you behave."   
  
He smiled and gave her a wink before escorting her to his car. Sara teased him with hints of things she could demonstrate on the drive across town. It was her turn to behave once they entered the restaurant. Despite Grissom's appraisal of her outfit, she felt underdressed. Her annual salary couldn't buy some of the jewelry worn by the other patrons.   
  
The maitre d' directed them to a table in a quiet corner.   
  
"No menus?" she asked when he left.   
  
Grissom shook his head. "They're doing a sampler. We'll get small portions of a variety of items off the menu. Don't worry; I told them you were a vegetarian."   
  
Their small talk was interrupted first by the waiter bringing the first tray of appetizers and wine, and then later by the owner. He insisted on thanking Sara repeatedly for her service to the community, much to her embarrassment. Grissom gave her knee a reassuring squeeze under the table, earning him a grateful smile.   
  
The appetizers were followed by small samplings of soup, salads and then the entrees. If it wasn't for the attentions from the owner, Sara felt it would have been the most romantic night of her life. The food and wines were incredible, the music was beautiful, and she was with Grissom.   
  
His cell phone interrupted her reverie. Shrugging apologetically, he ignored the disgusted glares from the other patrons. Sara shrugged sadly as he lost the battle with Brass. "I've got to go. Bugs," he said, pulling out his wallet. "You stay and finish dessert. Here's money for a cab. I'll come home as soon as I can. You have your key? Good. Sorry about this."   
  
"It's okay, Grissom. I understand," she said, mustering a smile. After enduring the sympathies of the owner, Sara finally escaped from the restaurant. She paced restlessly outside the building as she waited for her cab. At least she hadn't blown up at the owner, even if his attentions had made her uncomfortable.   
  
Getting back to the townhouse, she changed into a pair of sweats and pulled out her journal. Starting at the beginning, she tracked her progress since the accident, looking for techniques that had been successful in calming her down. She could feel the tension rising. The last thing she wanted to do was snap at Grissom.   
  
~~~~~   
  
"Brass, this had better be good," Grissom said as he entered the run-down apartment.   
  
The police captain did a brief double take when he saw the entomologist's attire, but the expected comeback never appeared. "Rennie James resides here with her two children, ages 2 and 7 months, and a some-times boyfriend. Neighbors hadn't seen the James family in days, then they noticed the smell. They called the landlord to complain. He called us," the police captain said, leading Grissom into a sealed-off apartment. "The place is crawling with these things."   
  
Grissom took off his glasses as he bent over to observe the beetles more closely. "Dermestes maculatus", he sighed, closing his eyes. This was going to be a long night.   
  
~~~~~   
  
It was nearly dawn before he came home. From his downtrodden expression, she was certain it must have been a bad case. Setting her journal on the couch, she watched him carefully. "Hey. Want some coffee?"   
  
"No."   
  
Sara blinked at his harsh tone. He rarely showed his aggravation so openly.   
  
"What's wrong?" she asked in concern.   
  
"I don't want to talk about it," he said after a moment's hesitation.   
  
"What me to fix you some breakfast?"   
  
"No!" Grissom snapped, heading into the kitchen.   
  
Sara followed him, wrapping her arms around herself as she leaned against a counter. "Can I do anything?"   
  
He shook his head as he pulled down a glass.   
  
Sara crossed into the room to stand behind him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. He shrugged it off. Trying to lighten the mood, she gave him a smile. "So, what's your pulse at now?"   
  
"I'm not in the mood for games right now. Could you get out of my way?" he sighed, subtly pushing her aside to pull a bottle of scotch from the cabinet.   
  
Staring at him, she felt her own pulse quicken. Sara bit back her response. She wasn't going to cause another scene, no matter how much he pissed her off. Something terrible had to happen to get him this upset; she wasn't going to add to it.   
  
Taking a long sip of his drink, Grissom walked over to his desk, looking for something. "Dammit, Sara. Where did you put my files?"   
  
"They're on top of the monitor," she said evenly.   
  
"I'd appreciate it if you left my things alone."   
  
"You told me I could move those out of my way if I needed to use the computer," she pointed out. At his disbelieving grunt, she glared at him. She started to make a comment, but changed her mind. Shaking her head, Sara went into the bedroom and quickly packed her bag.   
  
Grissom stared at her as she headed for the door. "What are you doing?"   
  
"I'm going to a motel. There's one up by the turn-off," she snapped, before closing her eyes to count silently to 10. "Look, I'm in a bad mood, you're in a bad mood. We're just going to fight if I stay here. I want us to still be on speaking terms later. You need to go stroke your spider, or whatever the hell it is you do to relax. We'll talk later."   
  
He let out a disgusted sigh, and gave her a pointed look. "That place is a dump. Put your things away. You're not going," Grissom stated, before heading to the bathroom. When he came out, it was to an empty home.   
  
"Dammit," he swore. On top everything else tonight, he had to deal with her anger. Sinking into the couch, he stopped when he felt something. Reaching around, he pulled out the book, swearing again. Didn't she know you ruined the spines of books by laying them flat like that?   
  
Taking another swig of his drink, he turned the book over. He didn't recognize it. A bit of handwriting was on the top of the left-hand page.   
  
"I do love him, but I wonder if that's enough. I can't imagine we can have any type of future together, unless …"   
  
Grissom closed the book quickly, once he realized it was Sara's journal. She must have been writing in it when he came in. He couldn't imagine her not finishing a thought like that. He dropped it on the coffee table and finished his drink.   
  
She didn't think they had a future? Why? He picked the journal back up. The earlier entries might explain her concerns. With a disgusted grunt, he dropped it again. He couldn't read that. Sara would never forgive him. Hell, he'd probably never forgive himself.   
  
Sara left him. She didn't think they had a future, unless he did something. But what? His attention went back to the journal, and he swore. Getting off the couch, he headed towards the kitchen. How did he get himself in this mess?   
  
How was he going to get himself out of it? 


	53. Ch 53

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 53  
  
A loud pounding at the door woke Sara. Rolling over, she stared at the ceiling and swore loudly. She had just fallen asleep. Closing her eyes again, she wished he'd go away. In his current mood, Grissom probably would trigger a snarky comment from her, and she didn't want to fit with him. After a moment's silence, she rolled back over, hoping to get some sleep.   
  
A longer, louder knock ruined that idea. Covering her head with the pillow, she let out string of curses. Now he decides he wants to talk. His timing was terrible; he was bound to hear more than he bargained for if he kept pushing. Several more choice phrases were directed into the pillow when a third rapping followed quickly.   
  
Briefly, she considered ignoring him, but at this rate he'd wake up the entire floor. Besides, she needed to sleep. She hadn't had a decent amount of rest in days, and it was starting to make her edgy. He wasn't likely to go away on his own. Staggering over to the door, she pulled it open as far as the chain would allow.   
  
"Go home, Grissom. I'm trying to sleep. We can talk later," she sighed.   
  
"Sara, let me in. Please," he pleaded.   
  
"No. Go home," she repeated softly.   
  
"I'm sorry. Please, let me in."   
  
"No," she said, her impatience rising. Whatever that case had been, it had bothered him. She could relate; they all had cases which affected them. But he was pushing the limits of her understanding. When she said no, she meant it. "I'm not talking about this now."   
  
She tried to close the door, but he moved his foot into the opening. A sharp retort died when she looked at his face. Even in the early morning light, the intensity in his eyes was evident. Cocking her head, she tried to read his expression, but she couldn't. She wasn't sure she wanted to know what it meant.   
  
Hearing another door open down the hallway, she huffed out an angry breath. At this rate, the police would be here soon. She didn't want any more publicity, especially like this. Turning away for a moment to calm herself, she looked back at him pointedly.   
  
"Move your foot, Grissom. I need to close the door to take the chain off."   
  
"You'll let me in if I do?"   
  
"Yes," she said shortly. Once he complied, she closed the door, momentarily considering going back to bed. She rapidly tried to calculate the probability he would get the hint to leave. Even the worst gambler in Vegas wouldn't take those odds. Instead, she slid the chain off and opened the door, nearly knocked over when he entered the room quickly to pull her into a bear hug.   
  
"I'm sorry, Sara," he said urgently, burying his face in her neck.   
  
She let out a sigh. The smell of scotch was strong on his breath. He didn't appear to be drunk, but he probably shouldn't have driven himself out here. Wrapping her arms around his back, she held on to him as he gently swayed them back and forth.   
  
"I'm not angry with you. Yet, she warned, extracting herself from his arms.   
  
"You're not?" Grissom asked hesitantly.   
  
"No. I don't want to argue, but I'm in a bad mood. If you hang around, I'm going to end up telling you what a prick you're being."   
  
"Come home, Sara. Please."   
  
The corners of her lips turned up slightly, as she shook her head. Grissom hadn't said 'his house', but 'home' as if she belonged. Part of her was flattered by the comment; the rest wondered how much he had to drink for that comment to come out. Still, neither of them was in any condition to be on the road.   
  
She walked back to the closest of the room's two single beds, pulling back the covers. "I'm beat, Grissom. I need to sleep. So do you. We'll work through this later. Go to bed."   
  
Crossing over to the other bed, she let out a startled yelp when his arms wrapped around her from behind. As his hand moved under her top to fondle her, he began nuzzling her neck, whispering, "I'm sorry" between kisses.   
  
Letting out a long sigh, she pushed his hands away and turned around, placing a hand on his chest. A firm shove sent him onto the other bed.   
  
"You can't fix everything with sex," she said, shaking her head. "I said I'm not angry, but you're starting to piss me off. Just back off, okay?"   
  
Crawling back under her covers, she looked over to see Grissom sitting on the edge of the other bed, watching her intently. She urged him again to go to sleep before rolling over. A small groan escaped when she felt his weight settle on the side of her bed.   
  
"Come home," he urged, brushing a lock of hair. "This place isn't safe. It's a dump. Let's go home."   
  
"Grissom," she said sharply, pounding the pillow in frustration. "Look. Either go to sleep or get out. I'm beat. If I have to go back to California to sleep, I will!"   
  
Sara felt guilty when he suddenly got off the bed. She warned him she'd snap if he kept it up. Before she could apologize, the covers to her bed were lifted and he slipped in behind her. His arms snaked around her, pulling her against him. The warmth of his bare skin was evident, but there was nothing sexual about his hold on her. She wasn't sure which of them he was trying to reassure.   
  
Rolling her eyes, she tried to slide over to give him enough room so he wouldn't fall out. With her luck, it'd be Hank that showed up to treat the naked Grissom's skull fracture. Settling back into the pillow, she closed her eyes to finally sleep.   
  
"Don't leave."   
  
A groggy Sara started to elbow him for disrupting her sleep again, but any angry response died off once her brain registered his tone. The sadness worked its way through her mental fog. She patted his arm gently. "I'll be here when you wake up. Grissom, housekeeping's going to be here in a few hours. Please, let me sleep. We'll talk later."   
  
Another groan escaped when he pulled her even closer against his chest. Even if she could breath, she wouldn't have been able to sleep. His body was rigid with tension. Slipping her hand under his arm, she urged him to loosen his grip.   
  
"They were just babies."   
  
That statement was enough to get her attention, even if it wasn't for the desolate tone of his voice. She remembered his reaction to the dead baby accidentally killed by his brother. No wonder he had been in such a bad mood. Thoughts of rest left her mind. If he was voluntarily talking about the case, it must really have upset him.   
  
Sara shifted again, this time so she could roll over to face him. "What happened?" When he remained silent, she ran her fingers along his cheek, prompting him to look at her. The pain was evident in his eyes. "What happened?"   
  
"I went to the scene. Mother and kids were missing. Place was crawling with hide beetles. We found the bodies in the crawl space. The oldest was barely two, Sara, and he already had scars from abuse," he whispered. "His sister was just a baby."   
  
She continued to stroke his face, as he composed himself.   
  
"Brass had already sent out an APB for her car. They found it before David even had the bodies out of the building. At a bar. The mother and her boyfriend were both in it."   
  
Grissom rolled over on his back and ran a hand over his face. Sara lifted herself onto her elbow so she could watch him carefully.   
  
"She helped to kill her own kids. Her boyfriend didn't like them, so they killed them. They held their heads in the toilet until they drowned, then dumped their bodies. Dammit!" Grissom swore, slamming his fist angrily back into the headboard.   
  
The cracking sound was enough to make her jump. The thin wood had broken under the impact. Sara gently reached over to cradle his hand, carefully checking for any broken bones in the dim light. The skin on his knuckles was scraped, but that appeared to be the extent of the damage.   
  
"I'll be right back, babe. Stay here," she said, quickly grabbing the ice bucket and key off the dresser. Running down the hall, she scooped up the ice and raced back to the room. Grissom was by the sink, his hand under the flow of cold water.   
  
"Let me," she said softly, gingerly examining his hand again. With the light on, she could see the swelling starting. Grissom flexed his fingers, grimacing in pain, but not making any sounds. Sara soaped up a washcloth and carefully washed away the seeping blood. Grabbing a hand towel, she wrapped it around the ice and held it against his knuckles.   
  
Taking his elbow in her hand, she led him back to the bed, grabbing the pillows from the other bed to prop up behind him. She grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen from her bag, taking out two of the pills and getting him a glass of water.   
  
Once she was certain he was comfortable, Sara crawled in beside him, resting her head against his shoulder. He gave her a wan and embarrassed smile. After a few moments, he let out a ragged breath.   
  
"Why? After all the things I've seen, I still can't understand how anyone can do that to a child. Especially their own," he said sadly. "Those kids did nothing to deserve that kind of life. They seemed healthy. If the mother didn't want them, she could have put them up for adoption, given them to biological father, just abandoned them. Instead, she murdered her own babies."   
  
After taking a moment to collect himself, Grissom shifted so he could wrap his arm around Sara.   
  
"I'm sorry about earlier. I really hate cases with kids," he sighed. "They're so innocent."   
  
"I know," she said softly.   
  
"Parents should protect their children. They should be the most important things in their lives. Children aren't disposable. If they aren't willing to make that commitment, they shouldn't be having children," he said angrily.   
  
"It's okay, Grissom. I understand," Sara said, running her hand across his chest. "I nearly quit, once. About three months after I started in San Francisco. First case with a dead kid. She was six. Severe asthma. Dad got laid-off. New job didn't pay nearly as much. The parents didn't want to give up their lifestyle, so they stopped filling their daughter's prescriptions. She died."   
  
"I never knew that," he said softly.   
  
"I try not to think about it. I thought I was ready for anything at that point. Wasn't the green rookie any more. God, was I wrong. I remember seeing her there on the playground. Her clothes were in tatters. The autopsy showed she was in the early stages of malnourishment," she said sadly, as Grissom ran a hand over her back.   
  
"The parents went out to dinner all the time. They had expensive liquors and cigars. Prime rib in the fridge for a party they were going to throw," Sara said, her contempt evident. Closing her eyes, she shuddered as she recalled the callousness of the parents.   
  
Grissom sat upright when he felt the tremor. What had he done? The last thing she needed to be doing was talking about dead kids. He hoped this hadn't upset her.   
  
"I'm sorry, honey. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories. You going to be okay?"   
  
Sara smiled at him. After all he'd just gone through, he was worried about her. Giving him a quick kiss to the cheek, she got out of the bed and placed the do-not-disturb sign on the door. Hopefully, the maid would let them sleep in. Grabbing the ice pack, she placed it in the bucket, and set it beside the bed. Turning off the lights, she crawled back in beside him.   
  
"Just hold me while I sleep, okay?"   
  
He wrapped his arms around her, and soon joined her in sleep. 


	54. Ch 54

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 54  
  
Sara's hopes for a good day's sleep ended a few hours later when the nightmare shattered the morning calm. What made it especially terrifying was the fact that it wasn't her own. Rolling over in the bed, she saw Grissom sitting upright, his breath coming in ragged gasps, a fine layer of sweat covering his body.   
  
"Hey, it's okay," she said softly. Scooting up beside him, she began running her hand up and down his arm. "It's okay. You're fine. Just a bad dream."   
  
After a few minutes, his breathing became more regular. Dropping his head into his hands, he suddenly jerked back upright and winced in pain. Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he cradled his injured hand, flexing his fingers experimentally.   
  
"Grissom?"   
  
"I'm okay," he said, giving a brief look before shrugging and returning his attention back to his hand. The embarrassment showed as obviously as the pain. Getting out of bed, Sara walked around to kneel in front of him, smiling reassuringly when he finally met her eyes.   
  
"Let me see that," she insisted, gingerly taking his injured hand in her own. A bit of blood had crusted over his knuckles, and there was some swelling and bruising, but overall, it didn't look too bad. She took the remains of the ice pack from the bucket, and wrapped it around his hand.   
  
Sitting back on her heels, she watched him carefully. His head rested on his free hand. From what she could see of his expression, it was clear he was in more pain than he was admitting. "Do you want me to drive you to the hospital? You probably should get that X-rayed. Just to be safe."   
  
"No," he said sullenly, running his hand over his temple.   
  
Sara raised an eyebrow, but quickly dropped her head back down to inspect his hand. She managed to keep most of the smirk off of her face. Right now, Grissom probably wouldn't appreciate hearing how cute he was when he pouted.   
  
"At least have Doc look at it when you go in tonight."   
  
"Fine," he said curtly, ignoring her brief, impatient glare.   
  
She stopped herself before she pointed out his misery was his own fault. Sara could understand his discomfort. Besides the pain in his hand, he acted liked he had a headache, making Sara wonder how much he had had to drink before coming over. That thought made her uneasy; if he had been driving drunk, they were going to have to have a long talk.   
  
"Migraine?" she ventured.   
  
"No."   
  
"Do you want to take a shower?" she asked kindly.   
  
"No," he muttered.   
  
Sara raised her eyebrow again, her humor fading fast. She refrained from mentioning that he needed the shower. Not that it would help much at this point; his clothes were a mess, as well. What exactly did he do before heading up her room? "Do you want to go back to sleep?"   
  
"No."   
  
Rolling her eyes, Sara grabbed the glass off of the nightstand between the beds, and headed towards the bathroom. The pout had lost its cute quality after about the third or fourth time around. She was sympathetic, but he was pushing the limits of it.   
  
She understood all too well dealing with the emotional aftermath of a nightmare. It was clear that last night's case bothered him deeply. He wasn't the type to be snippy, nor to barge into a motel room and break a headboard. Add in his embarrassment and physical pain, and she could appreciate why he was being so terse.   
  
But she was close to losing her temper with him. Her nerves were still on edge, and it wasn't going to take much more for her to snap. After their earlier encounters, Sara thought he'd have learned his lesson about pushing her when she was in this type of mood. He should have respected her wishes to be alone. If he hadn't been so obviously upset when he showed up, Grissom would have borne the full brunt of her anger.   
  
The last thing she wanted to do was add to his bad mood. Things between them were going well, but she didn't know if their relationship was steady enough to handle another one of her blow-ups. She needed some time alone to collect herself.   
  
That desire was the only reason she ended up in this rundown motel. On the way to the bathroom, her face wrinkled in disgust as she examined the room. She hadn't inspected it closely when she checked in; at that point, she was too tired to care.   
  
"I told you this place was a dump. You shouldn't have left."   
  
Sara turned to give Grissom a pointed stare as he tried to find his clothes. He wasn't in any position to be gloating. A number of retorts ran through her mind, but she kept them to herself. After all the times she blew up at him, she would cut him slack for now.   
  
Turning on the bathroom light, Sara jumped back in disgust when she saw the brightly colored cockroach scurrying across the floor. Bending down to pick up her shoe, she ended the bug's escape with a well-aimed throw.   
  
"I didn't have one of that type," Grissom said petulantly.   
  
"Squashed?" Sara snapped as she cleaned her shoe, turning to find him standing behind her, inspecting the remains of the roach.   
  
Sensing he was on dangerous ground, Grissom shifted nervously, holding his boxer shorts in front of him in a belated display of modesty. It was his fault that they ended up here, he reminded himself. Sulking wasn't helping his position any.   
  
Looking back on it, he had realized Sara hadn't left him; he'd driven her out. His behavior had been inexcusable, both before and after her leaving. Even now, he was being curt; he'd needed to try harder to keep his pain and ire from coloring his responses.   
  
Cases with children always upset him, but he usually managed to control his rage until he was alone. That usually meant home. He hadn't been thinking clearly when he treated her so rudely. Grissom had planned to apologize to her, not only for his behavior but also for ruining their night out, only to find she had already gone.   
  
That had made him upset. He'd be the first to admit his social skills were lacking, and he had a fear that one day Sara would get tired of dealing with him. Reading that passage in her journal had only added to his unease. He had had no idea Sara was worried about their future. He'd do whatever he could to reassure her, but he needed to know what concerned her. Hopefully, he could get her to talk once they were home.   
  
He wasn't sure what her current mood was. She was fussing over his hand, plainly concerned about his injury, but she was also stressed. Overcoming his chagrin, he gave her an apologetic look. "Let me take you home," he softly pleaded as he slipped on his shorts.   
  
"I don't think that's a good idea, Grissom," she admitted, taking some analgesics from her bag, and giving them to him.   
  
"Why not?"   
  
She smiled sadly at him after retrieving a glass of water for him. There had been a hint of fear in his voice.   
  
"Neither of us is in a great mood. We both need to get ourselves together. Alone," she explained calmly.   
  
"This place isn't safe. You are not going to stay here," he stated curtly, silently cursing himself the moment his harsh response was out.   
  
"This is Vegas, Grissom. I think I can find another motel room," she said acidly, before closing her eyes. That hadn't taken long. "Look, I'll just head to the airport. I can probably trade the tickets in for an earlier flight back to California."   
  
"What?" Grissom said suddenly, his expression becoming anxious.   
  
"I'm sorry," she sighed softly. "This trip turned out badly. I don't want to hurt you any more. I need to go."   
  
"Don't. Please," he whispered, pulling her gingerly into a hug. " I'm sorry, Sara. I'm not used to others being around when I decompress from a case. I didn't mean to make you angry."   
  
"You didn't. Not earlier," she said, resisting the urge to lean into him.   
  
"Then why are you mad at me?"   
  
"I'm not angry with you. Not yet. But you're so damn close to pissing me off. I told you I needed some space, Grissom, and you practically forced your way into my room."   
  
"I'm sorry. I was worried. This really is a dangerous place. Come back home, Sara. I won't bother you, I promise. I'll stay out of your way, whatever you want. Just don't go. Not like this."   
  
Sara looked up, trying to gauge both of their moods. Her nerves were still frayed; it was taking all of her control not to bite his head off. Hanging around ran a risk, especially since he wasn't in a good state of mind either.   
  
On the other hand, leaving now would be like kicking a puppy. He shouldn't be alone in his current condition. And Grissom rarely exposed himself emotionally. Going now would only make him hesitant to open up again. It seemed clear that he regretted his earlier behavior; Sara could only hope talking to her wasn't part of that regret.   
  
"Please," he repeated. "This isn't a safe place. Come home with me."   
  
Sara noticed his emphasis, again, that the motel wasn't safe. Her being here really was bothering him. His agitation showed, a telling sign from a man who usually kept his emotional state closely guarded. She let out a long sigh, prompting him to pull her in closer.   
  
If she stayed, she might hurt him, but leaving now would definitely upset him. If things did get rough, she could still go later. Leaning against Grissom, she gave him a brief hug.   
  
"Okay. You win. But I wasn't kidding. I am close to losing it. Go get dressed," she said before his bear hug squeezed the air out of her. Why was he so upset?   
  
While he dressed, Sara went over to inspect the damage to the headboard. No wonder Grissom's injuries had been mild; the thing was cheaply made. "When you get the bill, let me know what they charge for that," he said sheepishly. "I'll pay for it."   
  
Sara paused in her inspection. Standing upright, she turned to stare at Grissom, wrapping her arms around herself. He returned her look for a moment, but grew uncomfortable as she stared at him. Dropping onto the other bed to put on his shoes, he winced as he tried to tie the laces with his damaged hand. When he finished, Sara was still watching him, an odd expression on her face.   
  
"I didn't charge the room. I paid cash," she said quietly. It looked to Grissom that she was trying to piece together a puzzle.   
  
"Oh. Well, I'll go talk to the manager. I'm sure they're used to damages at this place. You go ahead home," he said.   
  
"I'll meet you back at your townhouse. I'll pick up something for breakfast," she said distractedly, gathering her things, and leaving before he could think of a comment on her statement that it was his home.   
  
Paying for the damages took longer than he expected. While the motel was used to the rooms getting trashed, the desk clerk wasn't used to people offering to pay for it. Grissom doubted the money would ever get back to the owner, and insisted on a receipt.   
  
When he finally headed outside, he shielded his eyes against the bright sunlight, wishing he'd brought his sunglasses. His headache wasn't a migraine, but it wasn't far below the threshold. Grissom found his car and drove off, not noticing the detective watching him in shock from across the street. 


	55. Ch 55

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 55  
  
Grissom spent the short drive back to his home wondering how to approach Sara. He needed to know what the 'unless' comment in her journal meant. How to find out was the problem. He doubted she'd take it well if he came right out and admitted he had read her journal entry.   
  
It may have been an accident, but he didn't feel like testing Sara's patience in her current mood. She may have forgiven him for following her to the motel, but he knew she was trying to maintain her emotional control. This could set her off.   
  
Entering the townhouse, he found Sara in the kitchen, retrieving two bottles of water from the fridge. A box of donuts sat on the breakfast bar, along with some fruit. Sitting down on one of the barstools, he tried not to flinch under Sara's look. Her head was cocked slightly to one side, and her arms were crossed in front of her.   
  
"Here. Drink this. You're probably dehydrated," she said kindly, getting up to push the water across to him. His smile of thanks was met with another stare. It reminded him of the times Sara had been presented with bits of evidence that didn't add up.   
  
Picking up the water, Grissom froze momentarily as realization dawned. He had an idea what was coming up, and he knew it probably wouldn't be pretty. Hopefully, it wouldn't upset her too much.   
  
"Grissom, how did you know what room I was in?" Sara finally asked.   
  
He delayed his answer as long as he could by taking a long draw on the bottle of water. She waited patiently, tearing bite size pieces off of a cruller and chewing them one-at-a-time.   
  
"I asked the desk clerk," he offered. Technically, it was true; he just left out the more discriminating details.   
  
"Really?" Sara's tone was neutral, but he could tell she wasn't pleased.   
  
"Yeah." He smiled gamely, trying to judge her mood.   
  
"Wow. That's interesting. 'Cause I didn't register under my own name," she said calmly. Picking up a knife, she rapidly began slicing a peach.   
  
"You didn't?" Grissom asked in amazement.   
  
"No, I didn't. I wanted to be left alone," she said, giving him a sharp look. "Remember? So, how did you know what room I was in?"   
  
"The desk clerk told me," he said again.   
  
She nodded her head, leaning against the counter. "You asked what room I was in, and he told you, even though you didn't know what name I used. You should switch to being a detective, Grissom, if you can get those type of answers."   
  
"It didn't happen quite like that," he said, studying an apple intently.   
  
"Really! Why don't you tell me the way it did happen."   
  
Grissom looked up at her, hoping to catch a break. He didn't want to have this conversation now. Both the case and nightmare had him upset. He was in pain, and needed to shower. They both needed to rest. His pathetic expression didn't garner him any sympathy. A dejected sigh escaped from his lips. There was no way of getting out of this.   
  
"I was pretty upset when you left, Sara. I had too much to drink. I needed to find you, to apologize. I'm not used to someone being around when I'm that type of mood," he said, looking up catch her reaction. She merely nodded.   
  
"I wasn't thinking too clearly. I figured you'd park in front of your room. But I didn't know what kind of rental car you had. So I tried to look in them to see if you left anything that identified it as yours."   
  
"Nice way to get yourself arrested," she pointed out.   
  
"I said I had too much to drink," he countered, rubbing his sore hand.   
  
"Go on," Sara prompted, grabbing some ice out of the freezer.   
  
"I ended up tripping over a pothole and landing in some trash. At that point, I figured I better ask the clerk. I told him I was looking for a woman who just checked in. He told me they didn't give out names. Thanks," he said, taking the ice pack Sara prepared for him.   
  
"No problem, babe," she said, taking her bottle of water, not noticing his confused look at the endearment. "So what did you do then?"   
  
"I asked what room I could find the 'tall, beautiful brunette' who would have checked in recently," he said, blushing slightly. He watched her closely, trying to figure out if she was angry or not. Her stance indicated she was, but her concern for his hand indicated otherwise.   
  
"And he told you?" Sara asked in astonishment. No wonder he kept insisting the place wasn't safe. It was a good thing she hadn't asked for an explanation while they were still at the motel, or that clerk would have regretted coming to work that day.   
  
"After I paid him $50," Grissom said in a low tone.   
  
"What!? You … what ... you … I don't believe you," she finally stammered. "What if he gave you the wrong room number?"   
  
"I would have had a lot more apologizing to do."   
  
Sara stared at him in amazement for several long moments. Several times she started to speak, but stopped herself. Finally she shook her head, and grabbed another donut.   
  
"You'll make a fine stalker some day," she muttered. When he started to speak, she held up her hand and walked over to the window. "Not now, babe. Not now."   
  
Dropping his head in dejection, Grissom went into the bedroom to strip before heading to the shower. Hopefully, she'd let him apologize when he was done. How upset could she be if she was still using a pet name?   
  
When he headed back to the bedroom, he found his dirty clothes gone and his suit from the night before hanging up. Going into the main living area, he found Sara leaving the laundry area at the end of the kitchen.   
  
"I've got you clothes soaking. The dirt was pretty ground in," she said evenly, walking over to the counter where she'd set up the first aid kit. "Come here."   
  
"Thanks. You didn't have to do that," he said kindly, letting her disinfect and bandage his knuckles, before handing him a fresh ice pack.   
  
Grissom walked over to the fridge to grab some more water. He noticed the kitchen was spotless. The few dishes they'd used were already washed and put away. Apparently, she cleaned whenever she was upset. "Sara, I wasn't thinking straight. I promise, I'll never do that again."   
  
"You better not," she said, fixing him with a piercing stare. Taking her own water, she leaned against the breakfast bar to observe him. "What the hell were you thinking?"   
  
Heading over to the couch, he tried to map out a response that didn't involve divulging the fact that he had seen her journal. Before he could think of a safe way to explain himself, she continued.   
  
"First off, you were drinking and driving. I don't care if you weren't technically drunk, that was a stupid thing to do," she said, pushing off of the bar. Pacing back and forth, she started counting off on her fingers. "You could have gotten yourself arrested snooping around a parking lot like that. What if you had gone to the wrong room? What if they had a gun or called the police? Grissom, any of those could have cost you your job, or worse. Were you even thinking?"   
  
He watched her in confusion. Anger, disappointment, hurt: any of those reactions he was expecting. Concern for him hadn't been on the list. Her behavior only added to his own bafflement.   
  
"I was worried," he offered.   
  
"Why? I can take care of myself. Do you really think I'm helpless?" Sara asked sadly, stopping her pacing directly in front of him.   
  
"Of course not. You're one of the most self-sufficient people I've ever met. I knew you were angry with me. I didn't want you to be."   
  
"I wasn't angry with you. All things considered, I was pretty calm when I left," she pointed out. When he didn't respond right away, she started pacing again, wrapping her arms around herself protectively.   
  
"Grissom, look, you have to learn to trust me," she sighed.   
  
"I do trust you," he countered.   
  
"No, you don't." When she saw his hurt expression, she rolled her eyes. "I don't mean professionally. What have you ever trusted me with Grissom? On a personal level? You obviously don't trust me enough to listen to me."   
  
"I trust you as much as I've ever trusted anyone," he said, rubbing his temples. This conversation wasn't going well. They were both tired and their nerves frayed.   
  
"Then you should have known to have left me alone. I thought we'd been over this already. When I say I need space, you have to back off. You can't push me," Sara said quietly.   
  
"I didn't mean to," Grissom said, getting up to walk towards her. She moved away, shaking her head in warning. He paused, recognizing she was trying to maintain her control. "I was worried that you weren't going to come back."   
  
"Why?" she asked in confusion.   
  
"Sara, I told you, I wasn't thinking clearly," he said, hoping she'd accept that for now. He could tell her temper was rising. His own patience was being eroded by the pain. Instead of mollifying her, his statement caused her to resume pacing.   
  
"No way. There's more to it than that," she stated firmly. Sara paused again, waiting for him to respond. When he didn't, she began stalking the room again. "Look, if you don't want to talk about this now, that's fine. I know you're in pain, and you're embarrassed. I'll go, and we can work it out later. But don't lie to me, Grissom. I'll go and I won't be back. Your choice."   
  
He looked up as she once again paused in front of him. Closing his eyes, he let out a long breath, hoping she'd understand.   
  
"It was an accident, Sara. Believe me. I would never have done it on purpose," he said sincerely.   
  
"Done what?" she asked softly.   
  
Grissom looked up, puzzled again by her change in moods. "After you left, I sat down on the couch. There was something there. When I picked it up, it was your journal."   
  
"You read my journal?" Sara's voice was low, but the pain was evident.   
  
"No," he said urgently. "I just turned it over to see what it was. I only saw that last bit. I put it down as soon as I realized what it was."   
  
"You read it? It's handwritten. You had to know it wasn't anything of yours," she snarled hotly.   
  
"It was an accident. I just saw that passage, Sara. I wasn't trying to read it," Grissom responded softly, trying to avert the upcoming storm.   
  
"I can't believe this!"   
  
"I only saw a line or two. I …"   
  
"Dammit, Grissom! How could you do that? I can't believe this. First you read my journal. Then you go play stalker on me. I can't believe you did this to me."   
  
"Sara, it was an accident. I said I was sorry," Grissom sighed. He knew he wasn't helping his cause any, but the pain was making him aggravated.   
  
"So am I. I never should have come here. This whole trip was a mistake. You don't trust me, and you don't respect my privacy. I thought I could trust you," she said hotly, standing directly in front of him. When he tried to reach out for her, she slapped his hand away. "Don't even think about touching me."   
  
"I said I was sorry. What else do you want, Sara? I don't know what else to say," Grissom said, dropping back onto the couch. Running his hand through his hair, he tried to calm himself. When he looked up, he saw Sara biting her lip, trying to rein in her anger. "I didn't mean for it to happen. If I was trying to hurt you, I could have read the whole thing. I didn't have to tell you, let alone apologize."   
  
"You're right," she said, leaving the living room to head back to the bedroom. "Fine. It was an accident."   
  
Grissom followed slowly, trying to figure out if she really accepted his explanation, or if she was just ending the fight. Sara nearly ran him over on her way back out of the room, carrying her purse and jacket.   
  
"You're right. I shouldn't have left it in your way. This is all my fault," she said, closing her eyes at that sarcastic edge in her voice. "Sorry. I'm still pissed, though. I'll be back. I need to get some air. I'm going for a drive. You should get some sleep."   
  
Knowing better than to contradict her, Grissom dropped back on the couch, his headache threatening to become a migraine. 


	56. Ch 56

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 56  
  
It took Grissom a moment to realize the pounding wasn't just in his head, but also coming from the front door. As he slowly awoke, he realized he'd fallen asleep on the couch some time after Sara had left. Letting out a groan, his muscles complained as he headed towards to the door.   
  
His head ached, his hand throbbed, and he wanted to ignore whoever was out there, but Grissom didn't want to take the chance Sara had forgotten her key. She was already upset with him enough. Opening the door, he squinted in the brighter light, surprised to find Catherine waiting there. She gave him a friendly smile, and entered before he issued an invitation.   
  
"Hey, Gil. Did I wake you up?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Sorry," she said sympathetically.   
  
"Why don't you come in? Don't be shy," he said sarcastically, before moving into the kitchen.   
  
Taking a seat on one of the barstools by the kitchen, she gave him an uneasy look. She'd heard about his case last night; unlike the others, she knew just how deeply cases involving kids bothered him. With the other rumors floating around, she decided to check up on him after dropping off Lindsay at a friend's birthday party.   
  
Brass had confided Grissom had shown up at the scene in a suit, upset by the fact that his evening was being interrupted. That jived with Warrick's early statement that their boss was seeing someone. Catherine had avoided grilling him about her, knowing that this relationship might just be a rebound from Sara. If it was, he wouldn't want to talk about it.   
  
Then Vega had called her earlier with a wild tale of seeing Grissom leaving a dump of a motel, best known for catering to a certain type of working girl. The detective had just arrived in the neighborhood to interview a witness when he saw Grissom exiting the motel office, driving off alone.   
  
She'd thanked him for his discretion, and promptly discarded the story. Grissom wasn't the type to risk his career or health with a prostitute. Looking at her friend now, she wondered if there might have been some truth to the story. He was in pain, disheveled, his hand was bandaged, and he answered her with an unusually snarky tone of voice. Something had happened to him; she hoped he hadn't done anything too stupid.   
  
Had the combination of a ruined evening and the stress driven him to that motel? Why else would he have gone there? Even if his 'friend' was staying with him, and he was in the doghouse, he could have slept on the couch.   
  
"I heard about your case last night. Bitch isn't it? Some people should never have kids," she offered.   
  
Grissom looked up long enough from making the coffee to give her a nod.   
  
"What happened?" Catherine pointed to his knuckles.   
  
"I lost my temper," he finally said.   
  
She raised an eyebrow, and turned to scan his townhouse. He'd rearranged some things. If he had a guest, there were no obvious signs. Out here, anyway. The bedroom might tell a different story, but she could do without those details. "Been moving furniture?"   
  
Leaning against the counter, he pushed the box of donuts towards her, ignoring the question. The bookcases hadn't moved themselves.   
  
"Okay," she said, her smirk showing she wasn't upset. "You want to talk about it?"   
  
Grissom stared at his bandaged knuckles. The truth was he could use Catherine's advice, but he didn't think it was a good idea to discuss his troubles with her. Sara might not appreciate it if he shared their fight. Personally, he still wasn't comfortable with the idea of the others knowing he was seeing her. Especially now that it looked like he may have ruined things with Sara. The last thing he wanted was more pity from his friends.   
  
"I don't think so, Catherine. Thanks," he finally answered.   
  
She gave him a friendly smile, and reached out to squeeze his uninjured hand. Taking a deed breath, she plunged into her next topic. It probably wouldn't get very far, but she had to try.   
  
"I was thinking of going to the blood analysis seminar next month in Lompoc."   
  
Grissom looked up in confusion. "Why? That isn't a very good conference. I doubt you'd learn anything from it."   
  
"It's near Santa Barbara, right? Figured I'd use it as a chance to visit Sara. One of us has to talk to her. We need to know if she's coming back."   
  
"Catherine," he sighed. Getting up, he fished out a bottle of aspirin and some water. "Why don't you just ask her? You're e-mailing her, right?"   
  
"Yeah, but it's not the same. You can say anything in a note. I want to talk to her face-to-face. If nothing else, I want to see if she's okay. This whole thing's been rough on her."   
  
For a long time, Grissom gave her an odd look. With a mild shake of his head, he walked back towards her, swallowing his pills. "How does she seem?" he finally asked in a low voice.   
  
"Okay, I guess," she answered quickly. After spending so much time avoiding any conversation about her, Catherine found his sudden interest in Sara intriguing.   
  
"She's happy there, isn't she?" His tone indicated it wasn't really a question.   
  
"So she says."   
  
"That's good. I'm glad."   
  
"Don't you want her to come back?" she asked in shock.   
  
"When was the last time she was happy in Vegas, Catherine? I mean really happy," he asked intently.   
  
"I don't know. Before the bus accident," she answered, deliberately keeping her response vague.   
  
"We both know it was well before the accident."   
  
Catherine raised an eyebrow in surprise. Not only did he realize he'd been responsible for her unhappiness, he was acknowledging it. Sara's leaving must have affected him more deeply than he let on.   
  
"Maybe it's best if she doesn't come back," he whispered. "She's happy in California. Sara deserves that."   
  
"Maybe she could be happy here again," she said pointedly.   
  
Grissom let out a long sigh. He had to be careful, but if he did this right he could get advice while maintaining his privacy.   
  
"Do you think I could have ever made her happy?"   
  
"Sara thought so," she said softly.   
  
He let out a short grunt. Hopefully, Catherine was wrong about her verb tense, and Sara still thought so. Rubbing his hand over his face, Grissom took another shot.   
  
"Was she wrong?"   
  
"I don't know, Gil. Look, we weren't best buds. I don't know what she thought about everything. But Sara's sharp. No one ever used 'flighty' to describe her. She knows what she wants, and she doesn't make rash decisions. Most of the time," she added quickly. "She didn't just draw your name out of a hat."   
  
"Why me? What did she see in me?"   
  
"Damned if I know," Catherine deadpanned. "Sorry, sorry. Just joking," she said with an apologetic shrug as Grissom glared at her.   
  
"Consider the evidence. Sara's attractive. That got her a lot of attention from the guys. If all she wanted was some fun in the sheets, then she'd have no troubles. But that wasn't all she wanted."   
  
Grissom nodded briefly, encouraging her to continue.   
  
"She's also very intelligent and very confident. Both of those can scare men off. She needed to find a guy who was at least as smart as she was, or who's comfortable around an intelligent woman. You fit on both counts."   
  
"I'm not the only man who fits that profile," he pointed out.   
  
"No, but let's look at the others. Nicky's like a brother to her. She and Warrick got off to a bad start with her having to investigate him. They get along fine now, but he's into the party scene and she's not. Brass; well, let's not go there," she said, smiling again. This time he at least returned it briefly.   
  
"I guess, after you, Greg or David had the best shot."   
  
"What?" Grissom exclaimed. "Stop with the jokes, Catherine. It's not helping my headache."   
  
"Hey, no joke. David is a sweet guy. He's smart, kind and absolutely adores Sara. If he had some more self-confidence, he would have had a chance. Greg's biggest drawback was he was too much of a joker. Sara likes to have fun, but she has a serious side. Of course, ever since the explosion, Greg's mellowed out. He probably had a better chance now than he did before."   
  
Grissom started pacing the kitchen, upset by the direction the conversation had taken. The thought of Sara with any of the others was too disturbing, but imagining her with the lab tech made his stomach churn.   
  
"What about that Hank guy? He wasn't very bright. He certainly didn't treat her right," Grissom said acidly.   
  
Catherine smiled kindly. This was good; he was finally talking. "We all get lonely, Gil. She didn't want to be alone. He showed an interest in her, he was nice to her. Well, at least on the surface."   
  
"It doesn't really sound like I had much to offer her," he finally said.   
  
"More than you realize, Gil," Catherine said. "When you let your guard down, you have a great sense of humor. You used to joke and tease her all the time. She loved that. You're a nice guy; I know you're supportive as hell. You'd never cheat on her. That's important to Sara. Don't sell yourself short."   
  
"I couldn't stop her from leaving," he said sadly.   
  
"I know that hurt like hell, Gil, but it probably was for the best," she said kindly. "She needs time. You don't just get over something like that. If she'd stayed and you had rushed things, it probably would have ended badly."   
  
"It still did," he said vaguely.   
  
"Maybe. Maybe not. She's pretty forgiving. If she comes back, maybe she'll give you another chance. Give yourself another chance to make her happy."   
  
"What about kids? What if she wants a family?" Grissom asked nervously. Despite the fact Sara had avoided the subject, he knew she was thinking about it.   
  
"You have faulty equipment or something?" Catherine asked.   
  
"No," Grissom stated firmly, turning so she wouldn't see the blush climbing up his face.   
  
"Then what's the problem? Don't you want kids?"   
  
"It's not a matter of what I want," he sighed.   
  
"Then what is the problem?"   
  
"How about age? Even if we started a family right away, I'd be nearly 70 by the time our oldest got out of high school. I could easily be dead before they finish college. It wouldn't be fair to put that type of burden on her."   
  
"Or you could get hit by a truck tomorrow. Did you think Eddie and I ever wondered if he'd see our grandkids? Life's a gamble. She probably would rather raise the kids herself than being totally alone after you're gone. If it really bothers you, make sure you have a great insurance policy."   
  
"That's not all of it. Do you think I'd ever be a good father?" he asked quietly. "It's not like I had a role model. I'm not good socially. I wouldn't want to screw them up."   
  
"You'd be surprised what kids can do," Catherine said softly. "You want what's best for them, and that can bring out what's best in you. Like I said, Gil, give yourself some credit. Besides, any kids of yours would be the envy of the neighborhood."   
  
"What makes you say that?" he asked eagerly.   
  
"They'd have the best bugs and the coolest things to bring to show-and-tell."   
  
Grissom smiled briefly, before dropping his head onto his hand. "It's probably all moot by now, Catherine," he said softly.   
  
"I don't know. She hung around for years waiting on you. Let's face it, Gil. You treated her like crap at times, and she still gave you another chance. Don't take that for granted. One of these days, you're going to pull one too many stupid stunts."   
  
"It's not like I did it on purpose," he groused, rubbing his sore hand.   
  
"I know, sweetie," she said maternally. "You know Sara. Think about what's important to her personally. Don't lie to her, respect her and trust her. Remember those things and you'll get along fine."   
  
Catherine got up and poured them some coffee. Sitting there, they sat quietly while he thought over what she had said. When his phone rang, she went to grab one of the donuts.   
  
"Grissom."   
  
"Hey," Sara said softly. "Is that Catherine's car in the parking lot?"   
  
"Yes," he said, looking up to watch his friend nervously.   
  
"Oh. Have you had lunch yet?"   
  
"No."   
  
Taking her donut and coffee, Catherine headed to the dining room table so he could have some privacy. She noticed Sara's plants sitting there. 'Poor guy,' she thought. He was still taking care of them, even if he was heartbroken. Yeah, he had more to offer than he realized.   
  
"I'll go back out, then."   
  
"You don't have to do that," he offered. Maybe it would do her good to talk with Catherine. If it helped her, it would be worth any discomfort he felt.   
  
"Yeah, I do," she stated. "I'll be back later. Do you think she'll be around much longer?"   
  
"I don't think so."   
  
"Well, I'll bring back some lunch. You have any preferences?"   
  
"Anything's fine."   
  
"Okay. Grissom …" There was a pregnant pause. "I'm sorry. For earlier. I'll talk to you later, okay?"   
  
"Sure."   
  
"Bye."   
  
"Bye."   
  
"Hey, Gil, why don't you go back to bed?" Catherine advised. "If you need the night off, give me a call. I'll fill in for you."   
  
"Thanks, Catherine. I'll think about it," he said as he escorted her to the door.   
  
Sitting back on the couch, he closed his eyes. Sara hadn't been happy, but she didn't seem angry. What was going to happen when she got here?   
  
TBC 


	57. Ch 57

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 57  
  
"Hey."   
  
Grissom anxiously turned when Sara entered the townhouse, carrying a paper sack.   
  
"Hey," he replied softly. Walking over, he took the package, and escorted her to the dining room table. While he'd waited for her to return, he had occupied himself with various chores, including setting the table. It was overboard for carryout, but it had helped to pass the time.   
  
He knew it was a diversionary measure, but it hadn't worked well. Grissom had fretted the entire time since her call, worrying both about her condition and what her attitude would be towards him. Her outbursts were frightening; not that he worried for his own safety, but they showed how much this affected her. Sara normally was very controlled.   
  
Facing her now, he swallowed nervously. Her eyes were red-rimmed, the only outward sign that she'd been crying. Her expression was a mixture of exhaustion and embarrassment. If Sara was still angry, she wasn't showing it.   
  
"I'm sorry," she said contritely, concentrating on taking contains from the sack.   
  
"So am I."   
  
Each flashed the other a nervous grin, the discomfort palpable in the room. Sara went back to opening containers, while Grissom checked the various food items. A wan smile formed as he watched her.   
  
"Smells delicious. I'll go make some tea," he offered, scratching his head in confusion. As far as he could remember, they had only had shared Indian food once together, part of a team meal over a year ago. Still, she had picked out his favorite dishes.   
  
Was she always that observant of trivialities, or did she save that type of attention for him? He couldn't have done the same if their positions were switched. Hell, it had taken a firestorm for him to learn Sara was a vegetarian.   
  
"Sounds good," she said softly.   
  
"Is Darjeeling okay?"   
  
"Fine," she said, giving him a weak smile.   
  
"Okay," he replied, trying to think of something intelligent to add.   
  
"Did you get any sleep?"   
  
"Not much. Catherine showed up about two hours after you left."   
  
"A case come up?" Sara asked, nervously empting out containers into the serving bowls.   
  
"No. She heard about last night's case. Wanted to see how I was," he said with a shrug, placing the teakettle on the stove.   
  
"Oh."   
  
"You know Catherine. Anything's her business if it interests her," he said, hoping to lighten the tension in the room.   
  
"Cool."   
  
Grissom watched her intently as she opened the last container, and then carefully gathered the debris. He understood why they were sticking so idle chatter. Both of them were still on edge, and it was easier to keep to safe topics of conversation. Turning his attention to the cupboards, he rummaged around until he found the tea.   
  
He wondered if it was better to wait until later to talk. It wasn't something they could ignore, but now might not be the best time. Both of them were tired, and her control seemed weaker when she was exhausted. Maybe Sara would give him a clue when she was ready to talk. For now, he could at least give her some advance warning.   
  
"She wants to go to a conference in Lompoc next month. Plans on visiting you while she's there."   
  
"Really?" Sara looked up in surprise.   
  
"She's wants to see how you're doing," he said, walking over to her. "See if you're coming back."   
  
"Oh. Hope that didn't make you too uncomfortable," Sara said, walking back to the table.   
  
"No. We actually had a nice talk," he said, shrugging before heading back into the kitchen.   
  
"Good. How's your headache?"   
  
"A little better," he said, smiling briefly when he saw Sara standing nearby. She looked bashful, shrugging one shoulder.   
  
"Your hand?"   
  
"Sore, but okay," he said, flexing it in demonstration.   
  
"Promise me you'll see Doc," she insisted.   
  
Grissom's smile lasted a bit longer this time. Her concern was touching. She'd picked out food he liked. On the surface, it seemed like she had forgiven him.   
  
"I will. Don't worry, it's not serious," he said kindly.   
  
"Good."   
  
Once the tea was made, they returned to the table to eat, rarely talking. Occasionally, one would flash the other a shy smile. Afterwards, Grissom gathered up the dishes.   
  
"You should get some rest before you go in tonight," Sara said, as she put the leftovers away.   
  
He glanced at his watch. She'd have to get ready to head to the airport in a few hours. "So should you," he said hesitantly. "I can sleep on the couch, if that would make you more comfortable."   
  
"It wouldn't," she replied. "You've put up with too much already. I'm sorry, Grissom. I don't know why I'm having such a hard time. This whole weekend has been rough."   
  
"I didn't help things, Sara. Don't blame yourself," he pointed out.   
  
"I'm not blaming myself. Or you. Just stating a fact."   
  
Grissom watched as she leaned against the counter, closing her eyes in exhaustion. Lack of sleep normally didn't bother her. How long had it been since she slept well? "Why don't you go ahead to bed? It'll just take me a few minutes to finish up in here."   
  
"Okay."   
  
When he entered the bedroom later, he found her already under the covers. She was on the far side, facing towards the wall. Undressing quickly, he made sure the alarm clock was set before crawling in beside her. He stretched his arm out tentatively, but withdrew before making contact.   
  
Letting out a soft "good night", he laid in the center of the bed, staring at the ceiling.   
  
"Night."   
  
He snapped his eyes open when he felt her head rest on his chest. After a moment's hesitation, he wrapped his arm around her. His own pulse slowed when he felt her start to relax as he stroked her back gently.   
  
~~~~~   
  
Thoughts of coffee were the first thing on Grissom's mind when he awoke Thursday evening. Stretching slowly, he considered going back to sleep. It was his night off, and there was nothing he needed to do tonight. The only thing to look forward to would be an e-mail message from Sara; she might even call.   
  
At least they had been on speaking terms when she left on Sunday night, but there had been an awkwardness between them. They had kept up their daily e-mail exchanges, and had talked on the phone twice. Both had offered the other apologies for their behavior, and both had accepted them.   
  
He missed her.   
  
Sara couldn't come to visit this weekend due to an open house being held at the university, and the next would be spent with her parents. His own schedule was hectic; he couldn't even manage a daytrip to California for at least another week.   
  
Stretching slowly, coffee entered his mind again. Bolting upright, he realized he could smell it coming from the kitchen. Throwing on a robe, he cautiously entered the main living area, freezing at what he saw.   
  
"Sara?"   
  
"Hey," she said sheepishly. Getting up from the couch, she indicated her cup of coffee. "Hope you don't mind."   
  
"Of course not. What's up?" he asked quickly.   
  
"I had to talk to you. I couldn't leave things the way they were," she said with a sigh.   
  
"I thought you were busy this weekend," Grissom said cautiously, going to get himself some coffee.   
  
"I am. I have to catch a flight back in the morning."   
  
Setting his mug on the counter, Grissom approached her slowly, gently resting his hands on her shoulders. When she didn't pull back, he slid his hands down her arms, then to her waist, pulling her into a hug. She pressed against him briefly, before pulling back.   
  
Grissom followed her to the couch, both resting one leg on the couch so they could face the other. He looked at her in surprise when she pulled her journal out of her bag.   
  
"Here," she said simply, holding the book out to him.   
  
"What?" he asked in confusion, not taking the book.   
  
"I want you to read it."   
  
"What?"   
  
Sara gave him a sweet smile at his openly baffled expression.   
  
"I want you to read this. I don't have any secrets from you, Grissom. I told Kane he could discuss my case with you. Anything you want to know, anything that can make this easier on you, I'll do for you. Here," she said, presenting him with the journal again.   
  
The tip of Grissom's tongue peaked out between his pursed lips as he regarded the book. It was a tempting offer. It would give him valuable insight into Sara's concerns and fears. Her darkest secrets. Things she hadn't felt comfortable telling him.   
  
"No."   
  
"What?"   
  
It was Grissom's turn to smile at her surprise.   
  
"I'm not going to read your journal, Sara. If there's something you want me to know, I want you to tell me. Personally," he said kindly. "You don't have to give up your privacy for me. I can't ask that, and I certainly don't expect it."   
  
"You're not violating my privacy if I tell you to read it," she said, a hint of a smile on her face.   
  
"If there's anything you want me to know, you can tell me."   
  
"Grissom," she said, giving her head a shake. "Whatever you saw in here before freaked you out."   
  
"It didn't 'freak' me out," he contradicted mildly.   
  
"You always bribe desk clerks to find out where people are staying?" Sara teased.   
  
"No. But I don't 'freak'. 'Overreact' would be a better term," he said.   
  
"Fine. Overreacted. But the result was the same. You chased me down," she sighed, breaking the levity.   
  
"I'm sorry about that. It wouldn't happen again."   
  
"It can't."   
  
Grissom watched her intently. Her response had been very low, but carried a magnitude of pain. Reaching over, he took the journal, and set it on the coffee table. Moving closer, he took her hands in his own.   
  
"Sara?"   
  
"I need you, Grissom," she whispered. "You have no idea how much it helps knowing you're here for me. But I have to be able to trust you. That's the only thing that makes it possible for me to be here."   
  
"We don't have to be here. If coming back to Vegas is too rough, Sara, don't do it. Not for me. I'll go to California."   
  
"For a day at a time? We can't keep up a relationship that way," she said with a smile. "We need to be together."   
  
Grissom squeezed her hands before getting up. Walking over to his desk, he shifted piles of paper until he found the sheet he was looking for. Sitting back beside Sara he showed her the blank request form for a leave-of-absence.   
  
"I can take some time off. We can stay in California if you want. Or we could take a long vacation somewhere. Maybe go whale watching in the Pacific Northwest," he offered, thinking she'd like that. She liked animals. When Sara stared at him, her mouth open slightly, he started to get nervous. "Is that a good speechless or a bad speechless?"   
  
"I'm not sure," she said, grinning widely, reaching over to take his hand. "That's sweet. Really. But I don't want you to do that. You've sacrificed enough already, Grissom."   
  
"If it helps you, I don't mind. I'll take a leave. I'll take another job. I'll move. Whatever it takes, Sara."   
  
"I have to come back, Grissom," she said, looking down at their joined hands.   
  
"Why?"   
  
"I can't let this beat me," she said hotly. "I can't. I'm not some sort of mental case. I want my life back, Grissom. I want to go back to a job I love. I want to be with my friends."   
  
"You still can. There's no time limit. Don't rush it, honey. Just tell me how I can help."   
  
She smiled sweetly, giving his hand a squeeze. "Trust me, please? If I say I need space, give it to me. I'm not trying to avoid you. I'm trying to avoid a fight. There're still times I need to be alone. To get my act together."   
  
He nodded sheepishly. "I'll try to be better. I don't want you to regret ever being with me."   
  
"I can't imagine that ever happening," she said, leaning her head against the back of the couch.   
  
"Good," he smiled. "What time does your flight leave?"   
  
"At 4 a.m."   
  
"Sara," he said sternly, shaking his head. He shifted so his back was resting against the couch, and held out his arm to her. "You should get some rest. Even you need to sleep. It sounds like you're going to be busy all weekend."   
  
Sara let go of his hand, sliding closer to him. Grissom went to wrap his arm around her shoulder, but looked up in surprise when she swung a leg over so she straddled him. She smirked as she undid the tie to his robe.   
  
"Maybe you should get me in bed, then," she said before moving in to kiss him.   
  
TBC 


	58. Ch 58

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 58  
  
Sara quickly made her way through the concourse of McCarran International Airport, heading towards another arrival gate. Her stride was confident, her mood optimistic and her smile infectious, prompting similar responses from the various people she passed. For the first time in ages, she had looked forward to returning to Las Vegas.   
  
Rounding a corner, her smile faded when she saw the media horde in front of her. Letting out a sigh, she slipped on her sunglasses, and worked her way around the side of the throng. She knew there would be coverage, but she never expected this.   
  
Teresa Hernandez and her parents were due back from Baltimore in a few minutes. The little girl's ordeal and recovery had garnered national attention, and an outpouring of support. Now that her condition had improved enough for her to continue her recovery at home, local interest in her story had re-emerged.   
  
A brief homecoming would be held in one of the airport's lounges, where Teresa's school friends and some community representatives would welcome her back. Afterwards, a small private party for family would be held at the Hernandez home.   
  
Sara had been invited to both, and couldn't wait to see her young friend again. She had maintained contact with the family during their stay at Johns Hopkins, but this would be their first face-to-face meeting since before Sara went to California.   
  
Leaning against a far wall, she waited patiently for the plane to taxi to the terminal. It had been nearly two weeks since her last-minute trip to visit with Grissom. Her smile returned as she remembered their talks, both that evening and over the subsequent phone calls.   
  
She'd been afraid that her latest outburst had damaged their relationship, but instead it had served as a catalyst. Grissom had started to open to her, to trust her. Even his e-mail messages started to reveal little glimpses, as he volunteered anecdotes from his past, and mentioned concerns about cases. There was still room for improvement - on both of their parts - but things were looking better.   
  
His increased faith in her was making the thought of permanently returning to Vegas more palatable. Sara's concerns about her self-confidence still existed, but she was starting to feel more comfortable with returning to the department. If nothing else, she was certain she could at least take a technical position within in the lab.   
  
Unfortunately, she wouldn't have a chance to spend much time with Grissom on this trip; he had to work tonight and she to be back in Santa Barbara in the morning. She did plan on visiting the lab before leaving, and that promised to be interesting.   
  
Despite his assurances that it wasn't necessary, Sara intended to keep their relationship under wraps. She understood the thought of the others knowing about them at this stage still made him uneasy. At this point, she didn't mind the discretion, if it helped him.   
  
His being her supervisor complicated their relationship, but Sara felt it was something they could work around. She hadn't been surprised when Grissom told her Mobley's position that as long as they were discreet, it would be overlooked. Practically all work places had no-fraternization policies, but 15 percent of the population met their spouse at work. Far more had romantic relationships that would never lead to the altar.   
  
Once she came back, though, they would need to let the others know. It would only be a matter of time before they figured it out, and it would be better if they told them outright. Besides, pretending nothing was going on could be fun once, but she wasn't going to lie to her friends.   
  
His relief at her decision to respect his privacy had been noticeable, even though he tried to keep it hidden. Sara decided to reassure him she was sympathetic to his concerns when they met again. He had a three-day break coming up, and would be flying out to California on Monday.   
  
Sara's reflection on the upcoming meetings was interrupted by a syrupy voice she had hoped to never hear again.   
  
"Ms. Sidle."   
  
Turning her head slowly, Sara dropped her head so she could stare at Lynda Darby from over the top of her sunglasses. Luckily, none of the other reporters had noticed them in the isolated alcove.   
  
"Ms. Sidle, a pleasure to see you again," Darby gushed, pulling out a tape recorder. Her fake sincerity wilted under Sara's steady stare.   
  
"I'm sure it is," she said calmly, steeling her nerves. Despite her wishes to return to the field, Sara wasn't going to burn her bridges. If she had to take a position with Public Affairs, she couldn't alienate the press, no matter how much she wanted to tell Darby where to put her tape recorder.   
  
"Are you looking forward to seeing Teresa again?"   
  
"Yes." Sara forced the smile onto her face. Her determination rose when she saw the reporter's irritated expression. Darby wasn't going to get to her. No way. Not here, not with a slew of cameras just down the hall.   
  
Darby tried to match her smile, but felt her temper rising. Her dreams of riding the bus accident into glory had gone down in flames. Her sneaking into Teresa's room had backfired on her. While it gave her a great scoop, it had turned her into a pariah. She'd been shutout of the hospital. The Hernandez family refused to talk to anyone from the paper.   
  
More importantly, her leads within the Clark County Sheriff's Department had dried out.   
  
And something big was up. She just hadn't been able to pinpoint what exactly had been going on.   
  
She'd come to the airport, knowing there was no way they could prevent her from attending the homecoming in such a public place. All she'd hoped for was an interview with some of the kids, or teachers. Finding Sidle, alone, was a stroke of luck. She might get another incredible scoop after all.   
  
"Ms. Sidle, is it true you've left CSI?" Darby asked, deciding to cut straight to the chase.   
  
"No," Sara stated firmly.   
  
Darby looked up at her, trying to determine if she was lying. Sidle had practically disappeared a couple months ago. She hadn't been spotted at any crimes scenes, entering or leaving the lab or her apartment. Her phone had been disconnected as well.   
  
"You weren't at the presentation at the mayor's office when your 'special review' was commended," Darby said, placing a heavy emphasis on the phrase.   
  
"No, I wasn't."   
  
Sara felt the tension leave as Darby fretted. She'd been worried about encountering the press, but this was fun. She could tell the reporter was desperate for information, and she didn't have to give it to her.   
  
"Why not?" the reporter demanded.   
  
"I was in California visiting my parents," she said lightly, enjoying Darby's discomfort.   
  
"Why?"   
  
Sara actually smirked at Darby's pout.   
  
"Why are they my parents?" she asked innocently.   
  
Darby glared at the other woman, her temper threatening to erupt. It had been a stupid question, but Sidle was getting on her nerves.   
  
"You passed up a ceremony to visit your parents?" she asked as if it had been a stupid move.   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Your parents?"   
  
Sara kept her laughter under control. Darby had been incredulous.   
  
"Yes. I have parents. They're a matched set. A mother and a father," she said in mock-seriousness.   
  
Darby shifted position, moving closer to Sara, holding the tape recorder directly in her face. The intimidation didn't work. Sara straightened to her full height, towering over the reporter, although she was in heels. Darby took a step back, but maintained an aggressive stance.   
  
"Ms. Sidle, you haven't been spotted working any crime scenes in months. Why?"   
  
Sara shrugged briefly. "I've been in California."   
  
"For months?"   
  
"Yes." Sara answered honestly. There were too many ways for Darby to find out if she'd been at work. The truth was bound to come out some time, and she wanted it to be under her terms.   
  
"Why?" Darby asked eagerly. Sidle had a reputation for a workaholic. Even if she had had that much vacation time accrued, it would have taken something to make her leave work for so long.   
  
"I took a four-month leave-of-absence."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"I wanted to get out of town for a while. I wasn't comfortable with all the attention. I couldn't do my job with all the press coverage. A friend at the University of California needed a hand while one of his workers took a sabbatical. I offered to fill in for him."   
  
Darby's glee faded quickly. Sidle was still considered a hero in the community. She probably even deserved the status. If word got out that she had been prevented from doing her job because of the press, Darby knew she'd be in even bigger trouble. Her scoop could kill her career.   
  
"University of California? That's where you went to graduate school?" Darby asked, trying to find a story somewhere.   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Are you planning on returning to complete your doctorate?"   
  
"No, not at this time."   
  
"So, you will be returning to the crime lab?" Darby clarified.   
  
"Yes. I will," Sara stated. In some capacity, at least, she added to herself.   
  
A cheer caught both of their attentions. Looking up, Sara smiled sadly as she saw Teresa being wheeled into the waiting area by her father, and her mother by her side. The girl was pale and obviously tired. Angry, red scars marred the exposed parts of her body, showing the extent of her injuries from the accident.   
  
"Excuse me," Sara said distractedly, slipping off her glasses and heading to join the Hernandez family. Teresa grinned when she spotted her approaching.   
  
"Sara!"   
  
Returning the grin, Sara ignored the whirl of cameras as she knelt beside the girl, and gingerly hugged her.   
  
"Hey, I missed you," she said softly, tenderly brushing a strand of hair from her face. "How are you feeling?"   
  
"I'm tired, but I'm glad to be home."   
  
"I bet you are. Here," Sara said, fishing a package out of her jacket pocket. "This if for you."   
  
"Wow," Teresa said when she unwrapped the box to find a locket inside. "Thanks," she whispered, before wrapping a frail arm around Sara's neck.   
  
"Let me give you a hand," she said, blinking back her tears as she fastened the chain behind the girl's neck Leaning back on her heels, Sara smiled and reached to turn the locket over.   
  
"There's an inscription on the back of it. 'Friends forever.' That's what I'll always be. You can call me anytime you need anything, okay?"   
  
"Thanks," Teresa said again. "Can I have a photo of you to put in it?"   
  
"Sure," Sara said, wiping at her eyes, the earnest request surprising her. "I'll bring you one the next time I visit. I'm doing some work in California for a few more weeks, so I can't visit often, but I'll try to see you as often as I can."   
  
"Okay."   
  
Standing up, Sara greeted Teresa's parents, before they headed to the lounge. She smiled openly under the onslaught of flashbulbs and reporter's questions. Even the press couldn't ruin her mood tonight.   
  
Sara's smile took on a satisfied quality when she saw Darby trying to interview various well-wishers, only to be snubbed by everyone. As they entered the lounge, she saw the reported walking dejectedly away. 


	59. Ch 59

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 59  
  
Pulling into the crime lab's parking lot, Sara was surprised by the feeling of longing that washed over her. She'd been in and out of the lot hundreds of times over the years, and had experienced a multitude of emotions, but never anything quite like this.   
  
She had been excited the very first time she arrived here; proud that Grissom had called on her for assistance in the Holly Gribbs case, and eager to prove herself worthy of his confidence.   
  
After the lab explosion, she'd returned from getting stitches nearly in a state of shock. Her moods had alternated from feeling numb to timorous to overconfident.   
  
There had been some dread and plenty of aggravation during the height of the press coverage after the bus accident. Walking across the lot had never seemed like an ordeal until she had to run the press gauntlet.   
  
Now, she smiled at the feeling of yearning that was rising up. She missed this place, and couldn't wait to return. Despite the long hours, dealing with the worst of type of scum, the smells, the frustrations with the judicial system, she missed the job.   
  
More importantly, she missed the people inside. Guiltily, she remembered her abrupt departure. The letters she'd left to her friends hadn't been enough. She should have told them personally that she was leaving, but at the time she couldn't face the task.   
  
Now she was about to see them for the first time since she left. They had maintained e-mail contact, and they had been understanding, but she was anxious to apologize. After all the help and support they'd given her, she owed them that much.   
  
Pulling out her identification, she slipped the badge into her belt as she headed into the building, her mood upbeat. Seeing Teresa had cheered her up. They only talked for a little while. The trip and following short celebration had worn the girl out. Sara had caught up with her parents, getting details of her recovery and prognosis. She faced a long battle yet, but the doctors were optimistic.   
  
Even the press coverage hadn't been able to spoil her joy. Teresa was going to be okay, and Sara didn't care if the media was there to broadcast the fact to the world.   
  
Heading to the break room, Sara was surprised by how few people were in the hallways. As she approached, she noticed the crowd gathered around the television set. She rolled her eyes when she realized they were watching the news broadcast from the airport. Leaning against the doorframe, she scanned the room. Grissom wasn't there.   
  
"Sara!"   
  
She turned around to see Greg racing towards her, a wild grin on his face.   
  
"Yeah, Greg. It's Sara. Now hush," Nick called irritably from the room. "We're trying to watch."   
  
The lab tech stopped in confusion, smiling when Sara winked playfully at him.   
  
"Yeah, Greg. You know Nick has problems with big words. Don't distract him," she teased as Greg hugged her.   
  
A wicked grin formed when a dozen, stunned lab employees turned around in shock to stare at her. She started to laugh when in near-unison they turned back to stare at her on the TV, then back to see her in person.   
  
"Hi, guys," she offered playfully.   
  
"Sara!" they called out after a moment.   
  
"Get in here, darlin'," Nick said, picking Sara up and twirling her around.   
  
"Forty-two channels and you're watching that crap?"   
  
"Hey, we gotta know you're still with us somehow," he said in mock-repute.   
  
"Nicky, you weren't getting e-mail from a ghost. I haven't done anything to deserve spending eternity haunting a laptop having to read your stupid jokes!"   
  
"Ha-ha. How are ya, Sar?"   
  
"Good, but I'm getting seasick."   
  
"Sorry," he said sheepishly, giving her a last hug before setting her back down.   
  
"Hey, girl," Warrick said, his bear hug seeming mild next to Nick's reaction.   
  
"Hey," she replied, shrugging when Catherine walked over. "Hi."   
  
"Hi, yourself stranger," the older woman said kindly. Not wanting Sara to feel overwhelmed, she pulled her over to a chair to sit down. "Come on in. Want some coffee?"   
  
"Thanks, that'd be great."   
  
She greeted the remainder of the others, joking with those she knew and being introduced to Ron, her temporary replacement. It didn't take her long to see why the others didn't like him. After a few minutes, the techs headed back to their labs as the CSIs took up seats around the table, waiting for Grissom to bring the night's assignments.   
  
"Hey, Ron, could you check with Trace, see if they found anything about that adhesive yet?" Warrick asked, waiting until the newest CSI was out of the room.   
  
"How you doing, Sara? We've been worried," he said, his voice warm and soothing.   
  
"I'm better. A lot better. Sorry I cut out on you guys like that. You deserved better, after all you've done for me," she said contritely.   
  
"Don't worry about it," Warrick said.   
  
"Yeah," Catherine added. "You did what you needed to do. Take care of yourself. If you don't, no one else will do it for you."   
  
"Thanks, guys."   
  
"When are you comin' back for good?" Nick asked, taking a seat beside her, and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.   
  
"When my leave is over."   
  
"For sure?"   
  
"Yeah, Nicky. I'm coming back."   
  
"To being a CSI?"   
  
"I hope so," she whispered.   
  
"We missed you around here," Warrick injected, trying to keep the conversation from becoming too maudlin. "What you been doin' in California? Won any Nobel prizes yet?"   
  
Sara laughed and gave him an appreciative smile, glad the conversation was back on a light track. Recounting the previous months' activities, she made a point of keeping her private life out of the discussion.   
  
Grissom watched the exchange from the hallway, his trepidation dying off as she joked easily with her friends. He smiled warmly, feeling proud of Sara. She was doing great.   
  
He knew there would be press coverage for Teresa's return, and knew she would be subjected to some of the scrutiny. He'd worried that the attention would bother her. The reunion itself was bound to be emotionally draining, without the added stress.   
  
But when he had watched the news before coming to work, he'd been amazed at how calm she was. She answered the questions directed her way smoothly and confidently. Her tenderness when dealing with the little girl made him wistful. For the first time since the accident, he felt he was seeing the real Sara.   
  
More than anything, he wanted to talk to her, make sure she was all right. To tell her how happy he was for her. To make love to her slowly and tenderly, as a private celebration of her recovery and a promise of his continued support.   
  
Giving himself a mental kick, he blocked those thoughts before he embarrassed himself at work. He'd have to wait until Monday for that. He waited as long as he could before entering the break room, letting the others enjoy her company. He knew they wanted to see her, too.   
  
Walking into the room, he wiped any traces of amusement from his expression, willing a mask of indifference into place.   
  
"Hey," Sara said, looking up briefly. She quickly dropped her eyes to her coffee, not wanting anyone to see her reaction.   
  
Right now, she wanted desperately to be in his arms, to feel his warmth, to hear his heart beat. Sara hadn't felt this level of confidence or joy since before the accident, and she wanted to share it with him. A blush started to form as she pushed down thoughts of how they could commemorate the occasion.   
  
"Hello, Sara," he said calmly, heading for the coffee machine.   
  
The others exchanged nervous looks, shrugging hopelessly. Tension hung in the air, thick and tangible. No one was certain how to handle the situation. Their interaction barely counted as polite, but at least it wasn't volatile. Nick started to say something, but a pointed look and headshake from Catherine stopped him.   
  
"Sara just told us she's coming back at the end of her leave," she said.   
  
"That's nice," he said, not turning around. Grissom already knew she planned to return, but hearing it again made him happy. He sipped his coffee to hide any traces of his smile.   
  
Nick flashed Sara an apologetic look before glaring at the back of his supervisor's head. Catherine rolled her eyes at him; starting a fight wouldn't help the two of them reconcile their differences.   
  
"Trace hasn't gotten around to it," Ron mumbled as he returned to the room. Using his entrance as a distraction, Catherine filled Sara in on the case.   
  
"You'll like this. Co-ed found dead in her room. No obvious cause of death. Room was locked from the inside, windows locked, and the transom too small for anyone to get through. Only clue was some sticky stuff on the inside door handle," Catherine stated.   
  
"Masking tape, probably," Sara said. When the others turned to her in astonishment, she continued. "You take a long extension cord, and wrap masking tape around the middle of it, sticky side out. Then you stand on a chair and drop the cord through, holding on to the ends. You get the center of the cord over the door handle, and you can open in by wiggling the ends of the cord up and down," she explained, pantomiming the motions. "Didn't any of you have transoms in your dorm? First safety tip you learn in college."   
  
"There was a bench at the end of the hallway," Ron stated.   
  
"And they were doing renovations in the next wing. Heavy-duty extension cords all over the place," Warrick added.   
  
"Go!" Grissom shouted. "Make sure to test the bench for shoe prints!"   
  
Warrick wrapped an arm around Sara before dropping a kiss on the top of her head. "Girl, I can't wait for you to be back," he stated.   
  
"You should have seen them, trying to figure that one out," Catherine said with a laugh. "You just saved them days of guessing."   
  
"Catherine, O'Riley is bringing in the husband in your disappearance case. Should be here within an hour. Nick, you have a smash-and-grab on Elkwood. Check on the DNA evidence from your rape case, then head on out," Grissom said, handing out the assignments, giving Sara a brief nod before leaving.   
  
"I cannot believe him."   
  
"Don't worry about in Nicky," Sara said kindly. "You better head for your case. I'll talk to you later."   
  
"Take care, sweetheart," he drawled, pulling her into a long hug. "You free for breakfast?"   
  
"Nah, I have to head out to the airport soon."   
  
"You take care, then."   
  
"He's been worried about you," Catherine said after they were alone in the break room.   
  
"Nick?" Sara asked lightly.   
  
"Grissom. He's missed you."   
  
"How's he been?"   
  
"He seems to handling it well."   
  
"Really? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"   
  
"No. I think he's got himself a new … interest."   
  
"Really?" Sara asked, choking on her coffee.   
  
"I'm sorry, kiddo, but it looks that way. Figured you should know before you got back."   
  
"Uhm, thanks."   
  
"Hey, I gotta run. I'll be in Lompoc seminar in a couple of weeks. Let's get together."   
  
"Okay, but it'll have to be during the week. I'll be busy on the weekends."   
  
"Sure thing. See ya then," Catherine said with a knowing smile. Looked like Grissom wasn't the only one who had found a diversion.   
  
Heading into the parking lot, Sara pulled out her cell phone.   
  
"Grissom."   
  
"Hey, you alone?"   
  
"Yeah. You did good," he said. It had taken all his control not to hug her on the spot when she explained the mystery of the locked room. She'd broken open a case that had them all stumped. He'd have to make sure the official report included that fact.   
  
"Thanks. I miss you."   
  
"Same here."   
  
"I won't embarrass you at work, don't worry. I've got some good news and some bad news."   
  
"Oh," he said lightly. Sara's tone indicated the bad news wasn't serious.   
  
"Bad news is I can't get off when you come visit."   
  
"That's okay. I'll think I'll drive down and visit my mother while you're at work. What's the good news?"   
  
"I talked Jimmy into letting me have a four-day work week. I'll be able to fly out on Thursday nights now. We get an extra day together."   
  
"That is good news. When's your next visit?"   
  
"Next Thursday. I'm going to try to make it back every week."   
  
Grissom let out a sigh. "That's a lot of travel. I don't want you wearing yourself out."   
  
"Trust me. It's not the travel that wears me out!"   
  
Nick walked by Grissom's office in time to hear the lustful laughter from within. Giving his boss an evil glare, he stalked out of the building. 


	60. Ch 60

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 60  
  
"Please, Sara."  
  
"No."  
  
"You'll like it better the next time."  
  
"I doubt that," she huffed.  
  
"We know what not to do next time."  
  
"There's not going to be a next time."  
  
"Please?" he begged.  
  
"I said 'no'," she sighed impatiently. She wasn't in the mood for this kind of discussion.  
  
"I promise it'll be better."  
  
"I'm not doing it again," she said, taking a cup of coffee and walking away.  
  
"Come on. Let's try it one more time."  
  
"No way."  
  
"Please?"  
  
"Do you have any idea how whiny you sound?"  
  
"I don't care. I don't want you to leave."  
  
"Give it up, Jimmy. I'm not going to re-enter the doctorate program. I'm going back to Las Vegas," Sara said, sitting behind her desk. She tempered her response with a smile, knowing her ex-advisor thought he was acting in her best interest.  
  
"Why?" he whined, dropping dejectedly on a nearby chair.  
  
"Because I want to," she said, rolling her eyes.  
  
"You want to go back to dead bodies?" he asked in astonishment.  
  
"Yeah," she said playfully. "Not much different than this place."  
  
"Hmmph. That's sick."  
  
"I knew I could always count on you for support."  
  
"This isn't about support. It's about what's best for you. 'Professor Sara Sidle' – has a ring to it, doesn't it? Grad school would be better this time around, I promise. Think of your future," he insisted.  
  
"I am, Jimmy. That's why I'm heading back," she said wickedly.  
  
"It's all that bug guy's fault."  
  
"Watch it," she warned. "I love him, but I make my own decisions."  
  
"Can't blame a dean for trying to keep his best student," he sighed.  
  
"I don't. You've been a great friend. You really helped me. I'm glad I was able to help out here," Sara said honestly, giving him a big smile.  
  
"You're always going to be welcome here. If things don't work out, or you decide you need a change of pace, you give me a call."  
  
"Thanks," she said kindly, turning back to her work. "But I don't see that happening."  
  
"Hmmph!" Kahill got up with a wink and headed across the lab. Seeing Grissom entering, he pointed at him. "This is all your fault."  
  
"What did I do this time?" Grissom asked in confusion as he pulled the chair beside Sara, leaning in to give her a subdued hug.  
  
"You got the girl," she said salaciously. "Jimmy's trying to talk me into staying at the university."  
  
"We can stay here if you want to," he said distractedly.  
  
"I want to go back to Vegas."  
  
"Oh, okay."  
  
Sara turned to watch him as he fiddled with a pencil on her desk. Realizing he was under scrutiny, he put it down, and sat back, his hands folded in his lap.  
  
"Is something wrong?" Sara asked in a quiet tone.  
  
"No, no."  
  
"I didn't think you'd be back from your mother's this early. Wasn't she in?" she asked, watching him with some concern. It was clear something was making him anxious.  
  
"Oh, she was there."  
  
"Grissom, what aren't you telling me?" Sara asked softly, turning her chair around to face him.  
  
"Oh, it's nothing, really. Mother was glad to see me, but she wanted to know why I was in the area."  
  
"You hadn't told her about us?" she asked with a grin.  
  
"No, not yet. I figured that was something I should tell her personally," he said with a shy smile.  
  
"Did she take it well?" Sara asked hesitantly.  
  
"Yes, very well, actually. She, uhm, wants to meet you."  
  
"That's cool. I want to meet her. We can figure something out on your next visit."  
  
"Uh, yeah, well, she wants to see you sooner than that. Tonight, if you're up to it."  
  
Sara blinked, then shrugged. "I, well, yeah, I guess we could drive back down to Venice after work, but I need to shower and change first. It'll be pretty late by the time we get there."  
  
"Uh, well, Mother's here," he stammered.  
  
"She's here?" she asked in astonishment.  
  
"Well, not at the lab. She checked into a hotel in town."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"If you don't want to meet her on such short notice, that's fine. She has some friends in the area that she'll visit if you don't want to do this. She doesn't want you to feel pressured."  
  
"No. That's okay," Sara said, giving her a head a shake.  
  
"Okay. What're some nice restaurants? I'll see where I can get us reservations."  
  
After finding out his mother's preferences, Sara quickly listed some of the nicer eating establishments in the area. Grissom gave her a kiss before heading back to the hotel to make the arrangements and call her with the details.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Sara straightened her skirt as she got off the elevator and walked towards the hotel room. She couldn't believe she felt this nervous. It was only dinner. Ever since she was a little kid, she'd shared meals with total strangers. It had been a fact of life growing up in a bed-and-breakfast. Of course, none of those guests had been the mother of the man she loved.  
  
Walking up to the door, she took a moment to collect herself. There was no reason to be nervous. She was basically a good person. Both she and Grissom were adults capable of picking their own partner. What reason could there be for her not to be accepted?  
  
Not wanting to think on that subject too long, Sara knocked on the door. Grissom quickly opened it, smiling in appreciation as he took in her attire. "Come in," he said softly, pulling her in for a gentle hug. Taking her by the arm, he escorted Sara into the room.  
  
"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Grissom," Sara said, taking care to enunciate each word. Grissom let go of her arm to translate.  
  
The refined looking woman rose from the chair, her movements slowed by age, but steady. She smiled, then looked from Sara to her son and back. "It's nice to meet you, Sara," she signed and then held out her hand.  
  
During their introductions, Grissom held back, translating the conversation. Sara remembered her encounter with the president of the deaf college and maintained eye contact with his mother. Giving her son another odd look, she signed a quick message to him. Sara darted her eyes back, catching a wide-eyed Grissom frantically signing a long message back, not bothering to translate it into words.  
  
"Gil, you're being rude. Let's go to dinner. We have a lot to talk about," Mrs. Grissom signed and Grissom sighed. Taking Sara's arm in her own, the older woman gave her a friendly smile and led the way to the elevator.  
  
Despite her earlier concerns, the dinner went well, with Mrs. Grissom asking the standard questions of where they met, what she did and her background. When she learned Sara was from Tamales Bay, she asked if Sara was familiar with one of the local artists.  
  
"She's a friend of my parents," Sara said cautiously. She didn't want to offend Grissom's mother, but 'artist' was a generous term for the would-be sculptor.  
  
"No offense, dear, but she's terrible," she signed conspiratorially. Her son hesitantly translated, causing Sara to laugh. Grissom joined in, both of them feeling the tension drain away.  
  
~~~~~  
  
After escorting his mother back to the hotel, Grissom and Sara returned to her apartment. Once the door was closed, he pulled her into his arms for a soft kiss.  
  
"You were great," he said tenderly.  
  
"Thanks. I was kinda nervous."  
  
"No reason to be. You're a great catch," he said, punctuating his statements with kisses.  
  
"You make me sound like a fish," she joked, working his tie loose.  
  
"Not a fish," he said, walking her backwards to the futon. "You're too beautiful."  
  
"Flatterer," she said as she started on his shirt buttons.  
  
"You're too modest," he stated, slipping off her blouse. "You had to have heard that all of the time."  
  
"Not really," she said, stepping out of her sandals. "I was the science geek."  
  
"The two aren't mutually exclusive. You're both," he said, quickly undressing each other between kisses. "You are definitely beautiful."  
  
"You seem to think so," she whispered, brushing her fingers against the front of his boxers, prompting a mild groan from him.  
  
Sitting her down on the futon and kneeling before her, Grissom slid his hands down the outside of the legs. Reaching her ankles, he moved to the inside of her legs and began working his hands upwards. "You're very beautiful," he repeated, his voice becoming husky.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Grissom woke the next morning to an empty futon. Stretching, he looked up to find Sara wearing just his shirt from the night before, reading her e-mail.  
  
"Hey. Sleep well?" she asked, sliding back under the covers.  
  
"Uh, huh. Thanks for meeting my mother last night. She really likes you," he said, slipping his arms around her.  
  
"No problem. I liked her," she said, leaning in to kiss him deeply. Pulling back she stroked his face gently, her eyes watching him intently. "Hey, Grissom, don't worry about kids. If you don't want them, that's fine. I'd rather be with you and not have kids, than with someone else who did."  
  
"Uhh. Well …"  
  
"We don't have to talk about this now," she insisted. "It's probably better if we wait until we're sure I'm not going to freak out again. But I just want you to know it's not something you have to worry about."  
  
"Okay," he sighed. "What brought this up?"  
  
"You're mom signed something about grandkids, didn't she? That's the part you didn't translate," she said earnestly.  
  
"Yeah," he said in wonderment. "I hadn't told her you were so much younger."  
  
"Does that bother her?" Sara asked worriedly.  
  
"No, not at all. That's what prompted the comment about grandchildren. She said it was still an option. I asked her not to bring it up, that we hadn't had a chance to discuss it yet," he explained, brushing a lock of hair out of her face. "How did you know?"  
  
"I've been taking ASL lessons on campus."  
  
"You have? Why didn't you say so? You could have joined in the conversation directly. It's the only way to really learn."  
  
"I'm not very good. I've only had a few lessons. I couldn't follow most of what you were saying."  
  
"We were going too fast. We could slow it down the next time. I'll give you some lessons on your next trip."  
  
"I'd like that. And it's only a few days away," she said giving him another kiss.  
  
"You should let me pay for the tickets, Sara. They're too expensive," he said stroking her back gently.  
  
"Grissom, I can buy my own plane tickets," she stated firmly. "It's not like I spent all that money I made on overtime on anything."  
  
"I don't want you running through your savings. I'm the one benefiting from the trips, so I should pay."  
  
"For services rendered?" she asked pointedly.  
  
Grissom swallowed nervously. "That really didn't come out right, did it? You know what I mean. You aren't making nearly as much as you were in Las Vegas and you're paying a fortune in rent. Let me help. I didn't mean it to sound that way," he said sheepishly.  
  
"No," Sara said firmly, leaning in to kiss him passionately. "But you better brush up on what you know about butterflies, 'cause you're going to have to pay for that crack." Cradling his head in her hands, she deepened her kisses, allowing her tongue to playfully trace along his lips before entering his mouth.  
  
Groaning, he slid one hand over her hip and down her thigh, running it slowly back up towards to her rear. Before it finished its journey, Sara planted both hands on his chest and pulled back. Dropping her head, she let out a disappointed sigh.  
  
"But not until tonight. I've got to go to work, and we're supposed to meet your mom for breakfast," she said, heading off to the shower.  
  
"Don't use all the cold water," he called out, dropping his head onto the pillow.   
  
TBC 


	61. Ch 61

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 61  
  
Lifting the lid off of the pan, Grissom tasted the contents before glancing back at the clock. Sara should be arriving anytime soon. He turned his attention to the salad greens next, hoping he'd be able to get her to eat something. Considering what was coming up, he worried about her appetite, among other things.   
  
She'd called Thursday morning to cancel her plans for a weekend visit. The lawyers for one of the insurance companies had her served, and she was scheduled for another deposition Wednesday in Las Vegas. Considering how much the last one had stressed her, Grissom found himself getting nervous for Sara.   
  
Over the phone, she'd sounded more apologetic than upset, though, making him hopeful that it would be easier on her this time. Hopefully. Her recovery was progressing steadily, and he didn't want this to set her back.   
  
While she was getting better, this hearing could be taxing. Part of the pre-trial discovery phase, a deposition allowed attorneys to ask anything that was even remotely related to a case. That included any material that might call into question the stability or credibility of the witness.   
  
It wasn't likely Sara would be subjected to any harsh questioning, even on the off chance the lawyers had found out she had been under Kane's care. It wasn't a case where it was her word against another person. She was just one of a number of witnesses, and there was no denying the bus accident had occurred.   
  
More importantly, her actions made her a local hero amongst the potential jury pool. Any attempt to tarnish her could backfire on a lawyer.   
  
Even if the questions stayed focused on the accident, reliving it would be stressful for Sara. Grissom knew she still wondered if she could have done more to save that boy's life, even if logically she knew there wasn't. He'd done what he could to reassure her on their visits, wishing he could have been more helpful.   
  
At least they'd have a chance to spend some time together; uncertain how long the deposition would take, Sara had gotten in her 40 hours early by working over the weekend. Now, she was flying in on Tuesday night and could stay through Sunday.   
  
Finishing what he could of the dinner preparations, he headed into the living room, smiling as he passed the surprise he'd gotten for her. That was something sure to put her in a better mood.   
  
Going over to the stereo, he flipped through his CD collection. Something classical would be more soothing, but that was his musical preference, not Sara's. He settled on Pink Floyd. During his last visit to Santa Barbara, he'd gone through her CDs, comparing what they both liked.   
  
Looking around the townhouse, he tried to imagine it through Sara's eyes. He wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible. The roaches were safely tucked away in the spare bedroom. He hadn't left anything growing in the kitchen refrigerator. A selection of vegetarian foods awaited her. The place was always clean, but he'd taken extra care that afternoon.   
  
Running a hand through his hair, he let out a sigh, not spotting anything that needed attention. Grissom returned to the kitchen to check on dinner again. As he was getting the dishes down, he heard the front door open.   
  
"I'm in the kitchen," he called out as he carried the plates to the breakfast bar.   
  
"Hey," Sara said as she slumped into one of the barstools, depositing her bags beside it.   
  
Grissom stayed on the opposite side of the counter, thinking she would appreciate the distance. Instead, he reached across to hold her hand, earning him a grin.   
  
"How are you doing?" he asked softly.   
  
"I'm okay."   
  
"Sara?" he asked pointedly.   
  
"Really. Not looking forward to tomorrow, but I'm not too upset about it. Can't be any worse than the last one," she said firmly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, I'm not going to run away from you, Grissom. Don't worry. I wouldn't do that to you again."   
  
"I'm not worried about me."   
  
"You don't have to worry about me. It's sweet, though."   
  
"Do you want me to go with you tomorrow?"   
  
"No thanks," she said kindly. "There's nothing you can do. No need for both of us to be bored."   
  
"Okay, but the offer stands," he said, giving her hand a final squeeze before letting it go and standing upright.   
  
"Thanks."   
  
"You're welcome. Want something to drink? I can make some coffee, or there's iced tea."   
  
"Have anything stronger?" she asked hopefully.   
  
Smiling, he grabbed two bottles of beer from the fridge, and passed one to her after opening it. She gave him a tired smile in return, and then took a long swig. Noticing his raised eyebrow, she shrugged.   
  
"I was thirsty."   
  
"Okay," he chuckled. "Dinner will be ready in a minute."   
  
"Great. I'm hungry," she said, dropping her head onto her folder arms. "Can I help with anything?"   
  
"No, it's nothing fancy," he said. "Tomato soup, salad, grilled cheese sandwiches."   
  
"Comfort food," she said, nodding her head. "'Dark Side of the Moon.' Good tunes. Have you ever played this along with 'The Wizard of Oz'?"   
  
"Once," he admitted hesitantly. Sara gave him an inquisitive look. "On a date. She hated it."   
  
"That's what you get for dating the wrong woman."   
  
"I won't be making that mistake again," he said with a wink "I can go rent to the movie after dinner if you want watch it."   
  
"I don't think I'll feel up to it tonight. Maybe later. We have most of a week to spend together."   
  
He returned her smile with a shrug, a hint of a twinkle in his eyes when he saw her looking at a bag on the counter.   
  
"I thought you fed your bugs dog food."   
  
"I do. That's not for any of my pets."   
  
Sara cocked her head to watch him, wondering why he had a bag of pet food he wasn't feeding to his pets. "Do I want to know what you put in your soup?"   
  
"That's for your pet," he said, pausing in flipping the sandwiches long enough to point into the other room.   
  
"What?" Sara asked in confusion, lifting her head up. Following his finger, she turned to the living room and gaped. "Oh, my God. Grissom. I can't believe you!"   
  
Sliding off the barstool, she quickly crossed over to a wicker basket beside the desk. Curled up inside was a small bundle of mottled fur sleeping on a thick stack of old, soft towels.   
  
"You're the one who adopted Tesla," she whispered as she knelt down to stroke the kitten.   
  
"No. I'm just watching it for you until you move back."   
  
"Grissom, I'm not going to take your cat from you," she said, smiling at the purrs her ministrations were evoking.   
  
"That thing is yours. You're the one who insisted a pet had to have fur," he claimed.   
  
Sara scanned the room and then turned to give him a knowing smile. Besides the bed, there was another basket filled with balls of twine, stuffed mice, catnip-filled toys and bottle caps. A scratching post, a carpet-covered cathouse and other paraphernalia were spread across the room.   
  
"Yeah," she said smirking.   
  
"I didn't want her to get bored, that's all. She's used to being at your lab with other kittens and people around."   
  
"How did you get her here?"   
  
"I arranged with Kahill to have her flown to Las Vegas when she was old enough."   
  
"Grissom! You could have gotten a kitten locally. It would have been a hell of a lot cheaper."   
  
He shrugged. "You liked that one."   
  
Sara flashed him a toothy grin, shaking her head in wonderment. Taking out one of the plastic bottle caps, she held it up in a silent question.   
  
"She'll bat those things around the kitchen all night long if you let her," he said warmly. "Come on, dinner's ready."   
  
Sara reluctantly left the kitten, giving her another gentle stroke before heading back towards the kitchen. Instead of re-taking her seat, she walked over to wrap her arms around Grissom. He returned the hug, enjoying the feel of her body pressed against his. Running his hands up her back, he smiled when he noticed how little tension there was.   
  
"You're amazing, you know that, right?" she stated, kissing his cheek.   
  
"Come on, eat while it's still warm," he urged, giving her gentle kiss before breaking off the hug.   
  
Taking her seat, Sara gave him a nervous look as she started on her soup. After a minute, she tore off a piece of her sandwich worriedly.   
  
"This is great, babe. How are things at work?"   
  
"Fine. Why?"   
  
"No one's giving you any trouble?"   
  
"No," he said slowly, trying to figure out what prompted her concerns.   
  
"I think we made Nicky mad when I visited the lab. He thinks you were a jerk," she said softly.   
  
"Really?"   
  
"Yeah. Sorry."   
  
"Don't be. I haven't noticed anything," he said honestly. "Besides, I'm the one who wanted to keep things private."   
  
"I don't want to cause you any more troubles," she said softly.   
  
"Don't worry, Sara. Everything's fine."   
  
"What about court?"   
  
"What about it?" he asked in confusion.   
  
"Have any lawyers said anything? About you seeing Kane?"   
  
"No."   
  
"What if one of them does?" Sara asked hesitantly, giving him a sad look. It was only a matter of time before that fact made it to a defense attorney. She faced the same questioning, but in her case it was required departmental policy that she see the psychologist after the accident. In all probability, she may never have to answer any questions about it.   
  
"I'll tell them the truth," Grissom said simply.   
  
"The truth?"   
  
"Someone close to me had undergone a traumatic experience. I wanted to help, but I didn't know how. I went to Kane for advice, and for help in expressing myself better. My social skills aren't the best."   
  
"You make it sound so easy."   
  
"I've been in forensics for over 20 years. My credibility has never been called into question. This won't be a problem."   
  
"God, I hope so, Grissom," she said, setting down her spoon. "I never meant to hurt you."   
  
"I know. You didn't do anything wrong. Don't let it bother you. Eat. Your dinner's getting cold," he chided, giving her a wink.   
  
After dinner, Grissom took her bags back to the bedroom, returning to find her sitting in front of the couch, playing with her kitten. He paused to watch, impressed with himself for thinking of this gift. Crossing the room, he sat down beside her.   
  
Immediately, Tesla jumped into his lap and started climbing up the front of his shirt, resting her head under his chin. Rubbing the top of her head against him, she let out a loud purr.   
  
"No, you're not attached at all," Sara said, rolling her eyes.   
  
"Actually, she's attached to me," he said, pulling her loose and tenderly cradling her in his hands.   
  
Sara smiled wistfully, resting her head against his shoulder. Reaching out, she dangled a piece of twine, watching as the small kitten batted at it playfully.   
  
"Thank you."   
  
Grissom set the kitten in her lap, and wrapped an arm around Sara's shoulder, holding her and playing with their kitten until he had to go into work.   
  
TBC 


	62. Ch 62

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 62  
  
The bedroom was dark when Grissom awoke the next evening, but he could make out Sara's form beside him in bed. She sat on top of the covers, leaning against the headboard, her legs stretched out in front of her. One hand rubbed against her eyes, wiping away the few stray tears, while the other absentmindedly scratched the kitten's head.   
  
"How did it go?" he mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.   
  
"Fine."   
  
"Hmmm." The non-descript comment was all his mind could muster at the moment. He'd been on a case until late morning, but had taken the time to call Sara before she left for the lawyer's office. She'd promised to call if she needed anything, but assured him she'd be all right.   
  
Despite his exhaustion, Grissom found sleep elusive when he got back to the townhouse. There hadn't been any word from Sara, but he still worried about how she was holding up. When he finally did drift off, his dreams had been vaguely disturbing, although he couldn't recall the details.   
  
"Really."   
  
"Sara?" Grissom asked intently as the mental fog began to lift, and he recognized the strained quality of her voice.   
  
"I'm fine."   
  
Setting upright, he mimicked Sara's pose, propping a pillow behind him. Holding out his arm, he waited until she slid up against him before wrapping it around her shoulders.   
  
"I'm fine," she repeated, her voice steadier.   
  
"Did you sleep well last night?" he asked, concerned that the stress had caused her nightmares to return.   
  
"Good enough," she said vaguely. "Played with Tesla before going to the lawyer's office. That was fun."   
  
"I can call in tonight, if you want me to stay here."   
  
"No, you don't have to do that. I don't think I'll be the best company to be around, anyway."   
  
"Okay."   
  
"Thanks for asking," she looked up to give him a fleeting smile.   
  
"How long have you been back?" he asked.   
  
"Not long. Maybe an hour."   
  
"That didn't take too long," Grissom yawned, looking at the bedside clock.   
  
"It went better than before. We didn't have to stop as often this time," she said quietly. "It wasn't as hard to describe what happened."   
  
"It'll keep getting easier, Sara. It may not seem like it, but it will."   
  
"I know. I keep reminding myself of that," she said, curling up closer against him. Letting out a sigh, she shifted so she could kiss his cheek. "At least I'm not freaking out this time," she said with an exaggerated eye roll.   
  
Grissom dipped his head down to kiss her lightly, then began running his hand slowly across her back. A smiled formed as she watched the kitten pounce as he moved his toes under the sheets. "I can't believe you did that for me. It was nice waking up with her."   
  
"I considered getting you an aquarium, but I thought you'd prefer waking up with the kitten to sleepin' wit da fishes," he said in a mock-gangster voice.   
  
"That was bad, Grissom," she groaned, shaking her head, but giving him a smile for attempting to lighten the mood.   
  
"I never claimed to be a comedian. You should have woken me up," he said. "You didn't have to sit here alone."   
  
Sara shrugged, resting her hand against his chest. He drew his arm in slightly, bringing her closer against him and kissed her forehead gently. After a few moments, Sara let out a ragged breath.   
  
"I wish I could forget everything that happened that day. I don't want to remember it. I hate talking about the accident. And I'm going to have to do it over and over again. Lawyers for the bus company, the school district, the construction firm. Anyone else they can think to blame – they'll all have their own depositions. Dammit! It was an accident. Nothing's going to bring those kids back!"   
  
"People need a sense of closure, Sara. It's too hard to accept that something so tragic can just happen. Until they can blame someone, they won't be able to let it go," he said softly, rubbing her shoulder.   
  
"I know. But how does drawing a legal battle out for years close anything? Damn lawyers will take most of the settlement, anyway. I just wish it was over."   
  
"The odds are the insurance companies will make an out-of-court settlement. In the long run, that's usually the most cost-effective measure for them. You may never have to talk about this again until you're ready."   
  
"I've said all I want to say about it," she sighed. "More than I ever wanted to say about it. At least it's getting easier to talk about. I … know … I did all I could. I wish I could have saved him, but I know I couldn't. God, the look on his face when Hunter thought I was his mother. That's going to haunt me for a long time."   
  
Grissom tried to bring his other arm around her, but Sara slipped out of the bed, apologizing softly. Wrapping her arms around herself, she headed for the doorway.   
  
"Do you want to go out for dinner?" he asked.   
  
"Not tonight, thanks. Why don't you grab a shower and I'll fix us something to eat," she offered, resting against the frame.   
  
"You don't have to cook. I'll make us dinner when I get out of the shower," he said, approaching her slowly. When she didn't back off, he slid his arms around her waist, kissing her neck when she leaned against him.   
  
"I don't mind. I need to do something," she said in explanation, running her hands along his forearms.   
  
"All right. I'll be out in a minute."   
  
When he entered the kitchen later, he found Sara rapidly cutting up a selection of vegetables. With practiced ease, she scooped them up to dump in a pot of boiling water to blanch. It never ceased to amaze him how expertly she handled cooking even though she despised it.   
  
"Pasta primavera. I've got the cream sauce started. I saw you had shrimp in the freezer. That'd go well with this, if you want to thaw some out."   
  
"Smells delicious. I'm going to get spoiled if you keep this up," he said, taking out the bag of seafood and heading towards the sink.   
  
"Don't count on it. This is about the only recipe I know that doesn't feed 20 people," she said looking up from the cutting board. "Now, if you ever go insane and invite the entire lab over for dinner, I've got you covered."   
  
"Do you want to?"   
  
"To what? Go insane? Cover you?" she smirked, waggling her eyebrows playfully.   
  
He smiled, happy to see her actively trying to improve her mood. Grabbing a pot of water and setting his dinner on the stove, Grissom walked over to stand near her, his demeanor becoming serious.   
  
"Invite the others to dinner. If you want to see them, we can have them over. I wouldn't mind," he explained. "You were so happy to see them on your last visit. I thought it'd help cheer you up."   
  
"Thanks, but I'm going to be okay. And honestly, I'd rather spend the time with you. I don't think I'm up to a party. Besides, that would kill any chance of keeping us quiet."   
  
"They're going to find out soon enough," he stated.   
  
"Oh?"   
  
"Well, they are investigators. I think they'll eventually notice we're living together when you come back," he said, walking over to the fridge to grab the ingredients for a salad.   
  
"Excuse me?"   
  
Grissom froze as he rummaged through the produce drawer, her tone carrying a definite edge. Had he said something wrong?   
  
"What?" he asked cautiously, peeking around the door. Spotting Sara facing him, hands on her hips, staring at him pointedly didn't help put his mind at ease.   
  
"You've decided where I'm living?" she asked incredulously.   
  
"No," he said, standing upright and smiling apologetically. "I didn't mean it that way."   
  
"Okay," she said with a mock-glare, "how did you mean it?"   
  
"I assumed you'd want to move in with me."   
  
"You know what happens when you make assumptions."   
  
"There's no reason for you get an apartment," he stated forcefully.   
  
"Really?" Sara asked, turning to face him again, a bemused expression on her face.   
  
"What reason is there not to move in?" he asked moving to stand beside her. "You went through too much of your savings buying plane tickets. You get no equity by paying rent. It's money wasted. Think of all the extra cost with two sets of utility bills. It's impractical."   
  
"You are such a romantic," she said with a laugh. Turning back to the stove, she checked on the various pans, jumping when Grissom wrapped his arms around her.   
  
"I've never asked anyone to move in with me before. Sorry if I'm not doing a good job of it," he said, kissing her neck. "I thought you knew I wanted you here with me. I want to go to sleep with you in my arms knowing you'll be there when I wake up. Well, somewhere in the house," he teased. "I need more sleep than you do."   
  
"I want that, too."   
  
"Then why wouldn't you want to move in, Sara?"   
  
"I don't think it's a good idea," she said softly, concentrating on the pans before her.   
  
"I won't crowd you," Grissom said softly. "I know there'll be times when you want to be alone. You don't have to worry about having your own space. I know this place is too small for both of us. It's getting too small for me. We'll get a larger home."   
  
"You've thought this through," she said in surprise.   
  
"I saved the real estate section from Sunday's paper. I wasn't sure if you'd have any preferences in style or location, but if you're up for it, we can check out some places while you're here."   
  
"God, you're really serious."   
  
"Very," he whispered, resting his head on her shoulder. "Why don't you want to live with me?"   
  
"Grissom," she sighed, closing her eyes at his sad tone. "It's not that I don't want to. I do. Really. It's just not a good idea."   
  
Running her hands down his arms, Sara pulled herself from his grasp. Turning to face him, she gave him a sad smile, and caressed his cheek.   
  
"It's not you. It's me. I don't think something this major is a good idea. Not yet. We don't know what's going to happen when I go back to the lab. I don't even know what job I'll be doing there. Or will be able to do. It's a big step to take when I don't know what my employment prospects are going to be."   
  
"How's an apartment any different? You'd still be paying rent if something happened. The townhouse is paid off; once it's sold and applied to the mortgage, the payments on a new place wouldn't be very high. Your share would certainly be less than what rent would cost you."   
  
"You're making this hard to say 'no' to, but I have to. For now," she said, stepping out of his embrace.   
  
"I'm pushing, aren't I?" he asked sadly.   
  
"No, I don't want dinner to burn," she said, smiling as she turned off the sauce. "I don't cook often, but when I do, I don't screw it up."   
  
Grissom sighed and returned to the fridge for the salad items, then checked on his shrimp. Sara watched him sadly, his disappointment obvious in his body language. She knew this hadn't been an easy thing for him to ask, and she hated not being able to give him the answer he wanted.   
  
After dishing out the meal, she took the plates to the dining room, where Grissom was opening a bottle of wine. Setting down her burden, she walked over to him and drew him into a hug, startling him.   
  
"Hey, babe, keep the real estate section."   
  
"Really?"   
  
"Yeah," she said, smiling at his eagerness. "But don't go buying anything yet. Let's see how things go, first. I'll run over to Henderson tomorrow. There's an apartment complex there that rents by the month, for people in town for long business trips. I'll get a place for a month or two, but I'll spend my free time here with you. If you don't want to have me committed after that, then we can talk about getting a new place together."   
  
"Okay," he said, grinning broadly, willing to accept the compromise.   
  
"Besides, we have to have someplace to use as storage before you can list this place for sale," Sara teased, laughing at the sudden transformation.   
  
"Why?"   
  
"No one's going to buy a roach-infested townhouse," she quipped, moving to take her seat.   
  
TBC 


	63. Ch 63

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 63  
  
Sipping his coffee, Grissom debated again about waking Sara up. He'd come home from work to find her sprawled on the couch with a forensics journal lying across her chest and a stack of printouts on the floor. At first, it looked like she'd fallen asleep before heading to bed. But she was in her pajamas and the bed had been slept in.   
  
He suspected a nightmare had driven her to the couch, where exhaustion finally caught up with her. Letting out a sigh, he crossed the room to gingerly sit on the edge of the couch, taking care not to jostle her. Reaching out, he tenderly brushed a lock of hair from her face, wishing he could take away her troubles. She was handling things well, but it had been hard on her.   
  
Leaning back, he considered his options for getting her back to the bedroom. From past experience, he knew how uncomfortable the couch was, but worried she wouldn't get back to sleep if he woke her up. He wasn't sure he could carry her to the bedroom without waking her up, either; she wasn't a heavy sleeper. Deciding any sleep was better than none, he left her there and returned to the kitchen to read the morning paper.   
  
His dilemma resolved itself a few minutes later when Sara woke up herself, grunting when she sat upright, her muscles protesting.   
  
"Hey," she said, smiling as she stretched slowly. "Coffee?"   
  
"Just brewed."   
  
"Perfect."   
  
"Did you sleep well?" he asked softly.   
  
Pausing to give him a kiss as she passed, Sara noticed his concerned expression. Turning to look back into the living room, she smiled when realization dawned.   
  
"I didn't have a nightmare," she stated, giving him another reassuring kiss before heading to the coffee pot. "There was something going on last night. Fire department and police were across the street. Woke me up. You don't have a police scanner, do you?"   
  
"No. If I'm needed, they'll call me," he said, his relief obvious, prompting another smile from Sara.   
  
"Hmm. After I woke up, I couldn't get back to sleep. It gave me a chance to finish some articles. Did you see the study out of Canada about how they can extract DNA from fingerprints? That could be so useful."   
  
"Glad to see you're still on top of things," he said with a smile.   
  
"Have been the entire time I've been out of the field. Don't want to get rusty," she said, taking her coffee and heading to look out the window.   
  
"I don't think anyone's ever worried about you not being able to do the work, Sara."   
  
Grissom set down his mug. Instead of being encouraging, his statement seemed to agitate her. He noticed she was flexing her fingers nervously, her posture tense.   
  
"Sara?"   
  
She slumped her shoulders as she let out a ragged breath.   
  
"I want to come back, Grissom, I really do. But I'm nervous. I'm not sure I can. I … I don't want to screw something up. I don't want to get to a scene and find out I can't handle it. I'd rather do something else than ruin a case."   
  
"Sara, don't rush it. If you need more time off, that's not a problem. I'm not going to send you into the field until Kane has cleared you, and I'm certain you're ready. We'll start you slow, follow Kane's plan. Once you're comfortable with lab work, we'll start sending you out on cases. If they don't bother you, we'll expand your duties."   
  
"Delaying it isn't going to help. If I can't do it, I can't do it. Better to find out now. You'll need a replacement if things don't work out."   
  
"We can work something out. You're the best CSI I have. I'm not going to risk losing you by pushing you too soon. I'd rather have you – only able to work on some certain cases or in the lab – than some less-qualified CSI who can handle any case."   
  
"Be careful. Don't want anyone accusing you of favoritism," she warned.   
  
"It's not. I'd be doing the same thing if we weren't involved."   
  
"You know, people are going to talk. Even if we don't tell them we're together, they know we were before I left. They're going to wonder about it," she sighed. "If it's going to be a problem …"   
  
"I'll leave," he said, before she could finish the statement.   
  
"What?"   
  
"I'll leave. I've been thinking about it since you asked me if I would be comfortable with us working together. If I'm not, or if we have any troubles, I'll leave. I've been approached a number of times about being an expert witness. It's a career option."   
  
"You'd be like Gerrard?" Sara asked, the shock clear in her voice that he'd consider following his ex-mentor in this regard.   
  
"Not like Phillip," Grissom said firmly. "He sold out his principles to the highest bidder. For a price, he'll help the guilty go free. But he was right about one thing: people do get falsely accused because of bad evidence handling. I can pick and choose which cases I accepted. At $500 an hour, I don't have to work full-time."   
  
Sara gaped at him for a moment, before dropping her head in wonder. When he placed a hand on her shoulder, she looked up to smile at him.   
  
"Speaking of court, are you still scheduled to testify tomorrow morning?"   
  
"Yeah."   
  
"Oh, well. I'm meeting the guys for breakfast after shift. Guess you won't have time to join us."   
  
"Probably not. Sorry."   
  
"That's okay. I know one thing: we have to get back on the same shift. That bed isn't nearly as comfortable when you're not in it," she teased.   
  
"I know what you mean," he said with an exaggerated sigh, prompting a laugh from Sara. "Have any plans for today?"   
  
"I need to talk to my attorney, make sure everything's cleared with the deposition. I have to swing by the lab and talk to Human Resources. Then I'm going to stop by and see Teresa for a little while. After that, I'm going to head to Henderson about the apartment. I think I'll see if I can hook up a hot date for dinner tonight."   
  
"Head to the Strip. You can probably find somebody there," he quipped.   
  
"Smart ass."   
  
"I know the perfect place to go eat. It's quiet and private. We'll need to leave a bit earlier than usual. How about we leave here at 5 p.m.? It's very casual, so you don't have to worry about getting dressed up."   
  
~~~~~   
  
When Sara returned that afternoon, she found Grissom already awake and showered. Sitting on the couch, he was reading an entomology text while the kitten slept draped over his shoulder.   
  
"Hey," she said, sliding in next to him.   
  
"Hey," he said, smiling at her happy mood. "Everything go well?"   
  
"Yeah. Teresa's feeling pretty good today. Didn't stay too long. She still gets tired easily. Talked to the sheriff while I was at work. He was actually nice to me. I've got my apartment for two months. Pretty nice place. Damn rent's high when you go month-to-month."   
  
"You don't have to rent an apartment," he offered gently.   
  
"Yes, I do," she said, nuzzling his neck to let him know she wasn't upset.   
  
"Let me know when you plan to move back. I'll see if I can get some time off, and I'll come out and help you pack. Or were you going to go visit your parents before coming to Las Vegas?"   
  
"Mom and Dad are coming to visit me in Santa Barbara before I head back," she said with a smirk. "They were hoping we could come visit them sometime. They definitely want to meet you again. I told them I didn't know if we could get vacation at the same time, or not."   
  
"We can work something out. You've covered enough holidays so the others could spend it with their families," he said, turning to nuzzle her neck in return.   
  
"Do we have time for a game of chess before dinner?"   
  
"No."   
  
She giggled at his disappointment. In the nearly 48 hours she'd been in Las Vegas, they hadn't been intimate. Between her mood and his work schedule, they hadn't had the chance. Until now.   
  
"We could show up late," she whispered, running a hand lightly over his chest.   
  
"Actually, we can't," he said mysteriously.   
  
"Okay," she said in a mock-pout, getting up from the couch. "Where are we going?"   
  
"You'll see."   
  
"Do I need to change clothes?"   
  
"Just bring a jacket or a sweater."   
  
"You aren't going to give me any more clues?"   
  
"No."   
  
"Okay," she said slowly. "And this is better than a game of chess?"   
  
"Apples and oranges. We can play later," he said salaciously. "I don't have to work tomorrow evening. Once I'm back from court, I'm all yours."   
  
"Sweet."   
  
When she came back out a few minutes later, she caught Grissom re-entering the townhouse.   
  
"Ready?" was his only comment as he escorted her to the car. During the drive, they talked about his cases until they crossed the city and headed into the desert west of town.   
  
"What's out here?" she asked in confusion.   
  
"You'll see."   
  
Shaking her head, Sara watched as he turned off the highway onto a back road. When he finally pulled off onto a dirt road, she turned to stare at him. Grissom turned briefly to give her a wink, before stopping the car on top of a bluff a few minutes later.   
  
Opening the trunk, he pulled out a blanket, ice chest and thermos. Nodding forwards, he walked around some boulders towards the edge of the bluff. As she rounded the corner, Sara drew in her breath. Their vantage point overlooked a clear section of desert. With the city behind them, there was nothing to distract from the natural beauty. Already, the setting sun was promising a spectacular show.   
  
"About eight years ago, some hikers found some DBs up here. All kinds of bugs. I was called in. Didn't get done until sunset. The view from here is incredible. I thought you might like it."   
  
"I do. This is perfect," she smiled, helping him to spread out the blanket.   
  
Settling down beside each other, they ate in silence, enjoying the sunset and each other's company. Once the sun began to dip below the horizon, Grissom put the remains of their meal away. Reaching over to Sara, he drew her close to him.   
  
"Thanks," she whispered, brushing gentle kisses over his face.   
  
"You're welcome," he replied, laying her down and leaning over her. His kisses became more insistent as his hands began roving over her body and under her clothes.   
  
Letting out a moan, she pushed his hands away. Grissom could see the blush in the fading light.   
  
"Grissom. Not here," she said bashfully. "Someone could walk up on us."   
  
"This coming from a member of the Mile High Club?" he teased, trying to resume his earlier activities.   
  
"This is different. We were in a closed room. It was more private," she said, wiggling to avoid his hands.   
  
"What?" Grissom chuckled. "You were 10 feet away from the other passengers, if that. There's no one around here for miles."   
  
"Grissom, the more time we waste out here is less time we have together back in your bed," she said firmly.   
  
"Okay," he sighed, getting up to gather their supplies while Sara readjusted her clothes. He'd just finished rolling up the blanket, when a heavy crunch and a beam of light intruded. Turning around, they faced a deputy.   
  
"Any troubles folks?"   
  
"No officer. We just came out to enjoy the sunset," Grissom said, while Sara turned around so the deputy couldn't see her efforts to control her laughter.   
  
"All right. Good thing you're leaving, though. This spot is a favorite for kids looking for a place to be alone, if you catch my drift. You might have caught more of a show you were expecting."   
  
"Thank you. We were heading home now," Grissom said, dragging an openly laughing Sara passed the confused law enforcement officer  
  
TBC 


	64. Ch 64

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 64  
  
"Hey, Gil. Headed for court?"  
  
Grissom looked up from adjusting his tie to see Catherine entering the locker room. Judging from her wily smile, he had an idea what was coming up. While he valued her friendship deeply, he didn't want one of her well-meaning lectures on dealing with Sara.   
  
"Good morning, Catherine. Yes, the Rajva case."   
  
"Too bad. We're heading to breakfast," she said, her tone implying it was an important event.   
  
"Enjoy your meal. Maybe next time I can join you."   
  
"We have a guest," she said, again adding extra emphasis to her words.   
  
"Oh?"   
  
"Someone you haven't seen in ages," she tried again, hoping to get a response.   
  
"Oh?"   
  
"Sara's in town," she said abruptly, frustrated by his lack of curiosity.   
  
"Really?" he said, feigning disinterest.   
  
"Yeah. She had another deposition."   
  
"Oh."   
  
Catherine rolled her eyes at her friend. Even if he was still upset that she had left him, the least he could do was be sympathetic to Sara's plight.   
  
"It's probably gotten her upset. The last one did," she said more hotly than she intended.   
  
"I remember her reaction very well, Catherine," he said pointedly. "Probably better than anyone else."   
  
"Yeah, I guess you do," she admitted, with an apologetic shrug. "She came in yesterday to talk to HR about her returning. Be nice to have her back, won't it?"   
  
Grissom dropped his head and let out a sigh. Turning to his friend, he leaned against the lockers, while fiddling with his tie. After a moment, he looked up to watch her closely.   
  
"Tell her not to rush it."   
  
"Rush it?" Catherine asked slowly.   
  
"Tell her she doesn't have to come back if she's not ready, Catherine," he said softly. "Make sure she understands she can have more time if she wants it. Vacation, extend her leave, whatever she wants. Tell her that she doesn't have anything to prove, either to us or herself."   
  
"Sure," she said kindly, surprised the display of consideration. Underneath his aloofness, she knew he still cared for Sara, even if he had apparently moved on. Of course, once Sara was back in town, he might reconsider that. "Good luck with your case today."   
  
"I don't need luck," he said firmly. "I have the evidence."   
  
"Take care, Gil," she said, chuckling as she left.   
  
Shaking her head, Catherine headed towards the exit, catching site of Greg and Nick ahead of her. Calling out to them to wait, she walked up to Nick and poked his chest. "Behave."   
  
"What did I do?" he asked with a hurt expression.   
  
"Don't make a scene at breakfast. Sara's not going to like it if you make a fuss over her. She's gotten her act together. Don't go bringing up past history. And no comments about Grissom, either."   
  
"She should know he's cheatin' on her."   
  
"He's not cheating," she sighed impatiently. "Sara left him."   
  
"She needed to get away. She needed help," he muttered. "Grissom could've been more understanding."   
  
"He got hurt, too. Besides, I already told her. Don't make waves."   
  
"Do you think it's true he's seeing Lady Heather again?" Greg whispered as they crossed the parking lot.   
  
"Who thinks that?" she asked coolly, giving him an icy stare.   
  
"Everybody, Cath," the tech said. "He disappears for days on end. Comes into work bandaged up. Makes people wonder."   
  
"Greg: No stories. Nick: No comments," she stated firmly. Unlike the others, she knew about the motel incident. None of these were things Sara needed to hear. If there was a chance of those two getting back together, she was going to run damage control. "Those two have to work things out themselves. Don't go complicating it for them."   
  
When they arrived at the diner, she warned them again, before entering. All three exchanged happy looks as the sound of Sara's laughter carried across the room. Following the noise, they found her with Warrick already sitting at a table, nearly choking at the story he was telling.   
  
"Hi, kiddo," Catherine said, bending over to give her a quick hug. "You're looking happy."   
  
"I am," she said replied lightly.   
  
"Hey, girl," Nick drawled, pulling out of her chair and into a bear hug. "Come here."   
  
"God, Nicky, don't break my ribs. And don't even think of spinning me around this time!" Sara joked, flashing him a grin as he put her back down.   
  
"Children! Are we going to have to make you sit at different tables?" Greg chided, drawing up a chair on the other side of Sara, leaving Catherine to shake her head as she sat next to Warrick.   
  
"Greg, the adult of the group? Am I in the right town?" Sara asked, shaking her head, before giving him a wink.   
  
"Glad you're coming back, Sara. It hasn't been the same without you," he said, surprising her with a longer-than-necessary kiss on the cheek.   
  
"Thanks, Greg," she said, turning to look at Catherine, who merely snickered.   
  
"Do you need a place to stay? Until you get a new apartment? I have a guest room," Greg offered, casting a nervous glance around the table, ignoring the Nick's suppressed laughter and Warrick's eye roll.   
  
"Thanks, Greg," she repeated, blushing as she realized he was letting her know he was still interested. "I stopped by an apartment complex yesterday. I'm set."   
  
"Oh," he said, trying to mask his disappointment. "Well, if anything comes up, you know, just let me know."   
  
"Sure," she said, smiling sweetly at him, causing him to drop his head bashfully. Despite his sometimes over-the-top behavior, the lab tech had his moments. How was she going to let him down gently without letting him know about Grissom?   
  
"Are you going to be in town long? Maybe we could grab dinner one night," he ventured.   
  
"Uh, let me get back to you on that, Greggo. I'm catching up with some other friends. Don't know how much free time I'll have."   
  
"Okay."   
  
"Hey, Greg, you gotta share. Lotta people missed her," Nick teased. "Now give us the dirt, Sar. When are you coming back? 'Cause, if it's not soon, your first case is going to be a missing person's case: that bozo who's been filling in for you."   
  
"I was telling her about that case you worked with him, Cath, where he fell into the corpse."   
  
"That jerk," Catherine muttered. "You know that case you cracked for us? Dead co-ed with the transom? Ron tried to make it sound like he figured that out when he was talking to the sheriff. Gil nailed him. Made sure Brian knew you solved it. Gil had a court data, Sara, or he would have been here."   
  
"Yeah," the others added in a chorus, causing her to smile at the concern from her friends.   
  
"It's okay, guys. Things are going to be fine," she stated firmly.   
  
"How are things in California?" Catherine asked, directing the rest of the conversation to casual topics.   
  
~~~~~   
  
Leaving the diner, Sara drove slowly through town. She wasn't in any hurry to get back to an empty townhouse, and Grissom wasn't likely to be home for a while. Eventually, she found herself following a well-known path, rubbing the steering wheel absentmindedly with one hand. Pulling over onto the shoulder, she turned off the ignition and scanned the area.   
  
Besides a tattered cross on the median strip, there were no obvious signs of the bus accident left. Time and the elements had faded the skid marks and burns from the pavement. The flowers and gifts had been hauled off. Closing her eyes, she could replay her motions as she responded to the event.   
  
She'd pulled over immediately after the accident. There had been no advanced warning of it. Her call for backup had been made as fast as possible. She had gotten the children off as quickly as she could without injuring them.   
  
But Hunter still died in her arms.   
  
Sighing, she opened her eyes, and rubbed at the tears. There was nothing she could have done differently. His injuries had been too severe.   
  
"It wasn't my fault," she whispered, repeating it a second time more resolutely.   
  
Sara bunched her hands into fists and relaxed them several times before holding them out in front of her. There was no sign of shaking. Nodding her head slightly, she gunned the engine, and pulled back into traffic, her mood lifting.   
  
~~~~~   
  
"Hey, how'd it go?" Sara asked from the computer when he came back from court.   
  
"Fine. The evidence was clear. Have fun at breakfast?"   
  
"Yes. And Catherine assured me you would have been there if you didn't have to be in court."   
  
"She's right."   
  
"Good thing you weren't," she said with a smirk.   
  
"Why's that?" Grissom asked, bending to pick up the kitten that was attacking his shoelace.   
  
"Greg was hitting on me."   
  
"Did you take him up on it?" Grissom asked, forcing himself to keep his tone light. He knew Sara wasn't serious, but he still felt a twinge of jealousy.   
  
"Yeah. I've changed my mind about the apartment. I'm going to stay with him, instead. He has a spare bedroom that isn't filled with bugs," she teased.   
  
"I'll get rid of the bugs if that'll get you to move in with me."   
  
Sara looked up in surprise. He had sounded serious. Judging by his expression and body language, she realized he was.   
  
"Whoa! I'm just joking, babe. Don't get jealous on me. I have no interest in being Greg's roommate."   
  
"I'm serious. If the bugs bother you that much, I'll get rid of them," he offered, dropping down on the couch, stroking Tesla's fur.   
  
"I don't like them, but you're not getting rid of them because of me."   
  
Grissom didn't respond immediately, but continued to pet the kitten as she purred contently. A slight facial tic was the only indication he was mulling something over.   
  
"Are you sure?" he asked eventually, flashing her a nervous look.   
  
"Grissom, what's going on?" she asked worriedly, walking over to join him on the couch. When he again refrained from answering, Sara scooped the kitten up and placed her on the cushion. Taking Grissom's hands in her own, she repeated the question softly.   
  
"Tell me what I need to do," he said after a minute. "What do you need from me?"   
  
"I'm not following you," she said softly.   
  
He licked his lips nervously, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes briefly before giving her an intense look.   
  
"That night you left. When I saw your journal. I only read that one passage."   
  
"I know. You told me. I understand it was an accident, if that's bothering you," she said, trying to reassure him.   
  
"No," he said with a weak smile. "You had written you didn't think we had a future together 'unless' something. Please, tell me what that is, Sara," he said in a hoarse voice.   
  
"There's nothing you can do," she said softly.   
  
"If I need to do something differently, or to stop doing something altogether, let me know. I don't want to lose you," he urged. "Tell me what you need."   
  
"Grissom, relax. Please. That wasn't about you," she said, holding his hands tighter. "You don't have to do anything more than what you already are."   
  
"What was it about? It's enough to make you question whether you can stay with me. I need to know," he insisted, giving her an ardent look.   
  
"It was about me, Grissom. You don't have to worry," she said, letting go of his hands and walking to the kitchen.   
  
"Sara, please. I know you didn't trust me. You told me that yourself. What do I have to do?"   
  
"Nothing. This isn't about you," she sighed, getting a bottle of water out of the fridge. Behind the cover of the door, she took a deep breath to calm herself. Turning back to the living room, she found him on the opposite side of the counter, watching her fervently.   
  
Sara took a long drink from the bottle, her emotions battling internally. She didn't want to talk about this, but she had offered to let him read the journal. And it was clear it was bothering him deeply. Grissom had been embarrassed reading her journal by accident; for him to bring it up was telling.   
  
"Okay. At first, when you started showing an interest, I didn't trust you. You'd left me hanging one too many times. I thought you were being nice because you were worried you were going to lose a CSI. I figured you were going to bail on me eventually," she said apologetically.   
  
"I wasn't, but I don't blame you for feeling that way."   
  
"Yeah, well I was wrong. You've been amazing. Everything you've put up with, everything you've done, offered to do – that showed you were serious."   
  
"I am."   
  
"You have no idea how much all of that means to me. How much it helped me," she said softly, her voice threatening to crack.   
  
"Then what's the problem?" Grissom asked, walking around the counter to stand next to her.   
  
"I am. I, well …," she stopped, trying to find a way to express herself. "It's like I don't know who I am sometimes. I'll react in a way that totally blows me away. It's not nearly as bad as it was, but I'm still nervous that I'm going to explode over something stupid."   
  
"Sara, I understand that. Let me know when things are bothering you, and I'll give you all the space you need."   
  
"It's more than that, Grissom," she said. "I don't want to hurt you again. And I can't promise that I won't," she whispered. "It wouldn't be intentional, I swear."   
  
"Can I do anything?" he asked, resting his hands on her shoulders.   
  
"Trust me. I want to move in with you, but I want to go slow. It's not you, I want to make sure I'm going to be able to handle it," she said slowly. "If … if anything does go wrong, don't blame yourself. It'll be my fault."   
  
"Don't," he said firmly. "Don't blame yourself for anything that has happened or might happen. Tell me what you need from me to help you."   
  
"Just keep doing what you've been doing," she said smiling. "Except trying to break into motel rooms. That wasn't good," she teased, trying to get him to relax.   
  
"Fine," he chuckled. "If there's anything else, anything at all, Sara …"   
  
"You'll be the first to know, babe, I promise. Come on," she said, standing up and pulling him along with him. "Let's get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us."   
  
"We do? Doing what?"   
  
"Anything you want," she promised.   
  
TBC 


	65. Ch 65

Summary: After viewing a horrific accident, Sara makes some hard decisions about her life. Obviously, a Sara-centered story, but with lots of friendship and a little bit of G/S at the end.  
  
Rating: R for subject matter  
  
A/N: No real spoilers. Thanks to Burked and all the others who previewed this for me.  
  
Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own anything related to CSI. If I did, I'd be on a tropical beach right now.  
  
Chapter 65  
  
It was a day photographers dreamed of. The late afternoon sun danced through the trees, painting dabbled patterns on the ground. Beads of moisture from an earlier shower acted like prisms, creating miniature rainbows in the grass. Children played in the park, getting a few last minutes of fun in before heading home for the night.   
  
Joking and laughing, Sara ignored Jimmy's antics as he tried another ploy to convince her to stay in Santa Barbara, pointing out she was already practically commuting between the campus and Las Vegas. She basked in the glow of his friendship, glad that she had people who cared for her in both locations, knowing she'd miss her friends in California when she left in a couple of weeks.   
  
Shaking her head as they crested a small hill, Sara spotted the young boys running down a pathway, tossing a frisbee as they went. One throw went high, and the closest kid ran backwards and jumped to catch it, losing control as he landed, stumbling backwards between two parked cars and into the path of a sedan.   
  
The squeal of brakes, a loud thump and screams filled the air, shattering the afternoon calm. After freezing for a moment, Sara raced down the hill, pulling her cell phone out, dialing 911 as she went. Reaching the boy, rolling on the ground and crying, she immediately coaxed him to lie still. Keeping her voice low and soft, she performed a cursory examination, reassuring him he'd be fine.   
  
Turning her attention to his friends, she questioned them about his family. She then sent Jimmy with the other children to find the boy's parents, located elsewhere in the park. Looking up at the crowd, she immediately took charge, sending other adults to direct traffic around the accident scene, and telling witnesses to gather off to the side until the police came.   
  
When the ambulance arrived, she stayed with the boy, smiling reassuringly as the paramedics set his broken wrist in a splint, not leaving his side until his parents came running up, a winded Jimmy dragging behind. Quickly explaining what happened, she smiled shyly at their exuberant thanks. When the police officers pulled up, she left the parents to give her statement.   
  
Sara remained at the scene, answering questions and calming the frightened children, arranging with the police to have them driven to their homes. Afterwards, she sank to the curb, for the first time registering the broken glass and blood on the pavement. On her clothes.   
  
"Sara, are you okay?" Jimmy asked quietly, taking her elbow gently and pulling her up.   
  
"I need to get to Vegas," she whispered.   
  
~~~~~   
  
Floodlights marked the location of the decaying body, even if dispatch hadn't given her precise directions. Approaching the scene slowly, Sara wrapped her jacket closer around herself, showing her identification to the officers on the perimeter, smiling when David came over to give her a shy hug.   
  
"Sara, doll, you need to get a hobby. It's bad enough you just wandered onto cases when you lived in Vegas," Brass teased, walking over to pat her arm. "Your vacation almost over? 'Cause we miss you."   
  
"Hey, Brass, thanks" she said sweetly, her eyes drawn to Grissom, who had snapped his head up at the sound of her name. Directing David to the dead body, he and Nick quickly walked out from under the yellow tapes towards her.   
  
"Whoa, Nicky! Stay downwind, will ya? That's one thing I don't miss about this job," she said, waving her hand under her nose.   
  
"Gal, what are you doin' here?" he asked, backing off from his hug.   
  
"Yes, why are you here?" Grissom asked tightly.   
  
Sara turned to him, a subtle smile forming. She could tell he was keeping his agitation under control. Her parents were coming to visit her this weekend, and she hadn't intended to come to Vegas again before she moved back. Suddenly appearing without warning must have him worried, she realized. She regretted not calling him in advance, but this was something she needed to tell him personally.   
  
"Wanted to tell you I'm ready to come back. For all of it. I can handle it," she stated firmly, but quietly.   
  
"That's great, Sar!" Nick said, casting a hard look at his supervisor, a move mimicked by Brass.   
  
"Nicky, get started on the scene. I'll be there in a minute," Grissom directed, nodding for Sara to walk over to an isolated area.   
  
"Sara?"   
  
"Everything's cool, Grissom. Didn't mean to scare you," she said softly.   
  
"If you're not ready, don't rush it."   
  
"I'm not. Really. I'll explain it when you get home, but I can handle this. All of it. Trust me."   
  
He watched her intently, his tension draining slowly as he winked at her. "If you say so."   
  
"I do. I'll go pick up some lemons and leave them at the lab. You guys stink."   
  
~~~~~   
  
Grissom prodded the quivering mass with the side of the blade experimentally, wrinkling his forehead in consternation. Reading over the procedure again, his tongue peaked out of his mouth as he looked from his gathered ingredients to the picture of the final product.   
  
In the cookbook, the tofu dish looked appetizing, but he eyed the raw product with distrust, deciding the photo had to have been doctored. He was willing to do a lot of things to make Sara happy, but he doubted adding tofu to his diet would be one of them.   
  
The loud knocking at the door drew his attention away from the dinner attempt. Wiping his hands on a towel, he crossed the room quickly to find an aggravated Nick in the hallway.   
  
"We've been trying to call you for over an hour," he said shortly. He didn't bother trying to hide his annoyance. It was bad enough Grissom had ignored Sara when she visited the lab, but his lack of enthusiasm when she told them she was ready to come back had been inexcusable. Holding up a large evidence jar, he walked into the townhouse. "What is this? Vega found a crime scene full of them."   
  
"Come in, Nick," he said distractedly, taking the jarred insect and directing him to a seat at the breakfast bar.   
  
While Grissom stared at the bug in fascination, the younger man watched him closely for the first time. He was in jeans and a T-shirt, his hair disheveled. There were two sets of plates on the dining room table, and a bottle of wine sat opened on the counter.   
  
His mouth hung open as realization dawned on him, only to be confirmed when a woman walked into the living room, wearing only a towel, drying her hair with another. He turned away, but not before noticing the woman had great legs. No wonder Grissom had his cell phone and pager turned off.   
  
"Oh, man, I'm sorry. I didn't know you had company," the blushing Texan said to Grissom.   
  
"Nicky!" she exclaimed, dropping the towel from her hair.   
  
"Sara!"   
  
"Nick!" Grissom growled, when he saw the younger man eyeing her appreciatively.   
  
"Sorry," he said, dropping his head into his hands, more afraid of Sara's bite than Grissom's bark.   
  
"Stay there," she said, going back to the bedroom, quickly changing and heading back to take a seat beside her confused friend.   
  
"Sorry," he repeated, jumping when he felt something climbing up his leg. Given who owed the property, there was no telling what type of creature it was. "What the hell?"   
  
"Hey, Tesla," she said, scooping up the kitten, grinning at the Texan's startled look. "Grissom got me a kitten."   
  
"Awww," he drawled, getting another glare from Grissom. "Hold on: you're the friend? You're the one he's been seeing all this time? And you didn't tell us? You've been in Vegas and didn't visit us?"   
  
"No, Nicky. Sorry. We wanted to keep things quiet until we were sure things were going to work out this time," she explained.   
  
"That's okay. I understand. Your secret's safe with me," he said, smiling as he reached over to pet the kitten.   
  
"It's okay, Nick," Grissom said suddenly. "Might as well let everyone know now. Call the others up, tell them to get here. Don't tell them why. I'll order some pizzas," he said, happily dumping the tofu in the trashcan.   
  
Laughing, Nick gave Sara a hug. "Poor Greg. He's going to be heartbroken."   
  
"What about Cath? She's going to go postal when she finds out she didn't know about this!"   
  
~~~~~   
  
The impromptu party turned out to be more fun than he expected, with the others curious why they had been called to his home on short notice. Their surprise turned to shock when Sara explained the truth of their relationship. The party was short-lived, as Sara had to fly back to Santa Barbara that evening.   
  
"See you later, Sara," Catherine said, giving her a hug. "And tell Gil I'll be talking to him later," she said, glaring evilly at him as he left the room with his cell phone.   
  
"Okay," she chuckled, turning to hug Greg. "Hey, look on the bright side. I can talk to him about barking at you," she whispered with a wink, trying to cheer up the dejected lab tech. "I think I can bribe him."   
  
"Just wear that towel more often," Nick quipped, yelping when Sara punched his arm.   
  
"Let's get out of here while you can still walk, man. You take care, Sara," Warrick said with a kind smile.   
  
"Bye, guys!"   
  
"I want to show you something before you head back to the airport," Grissom said, slipping up behind her.   
  
"Okay."   
  
Sara shook her head when she pulled her rental car up behind him when he turned into the driveway of a two-story house in an older section of the city. The for-sale sign made the point of the visit clear.   
  
"I'm not pushing," he insisted as soon as she walked to him. "I just called a real estate agent to start looking. She called me right back about this place. I think it's perfect. I've had it inspected. Besides some cosmetic work, it's in excellent condition. I want to know what you think," he said, beginning a tour.   
  
While she agreed they would need a larger place when she moved in, this was overkill. By no means a mansion, the house was bigger than what they needed. Still, she couldn't help but smile as he pointed out the features in each room: the den with the built-in bookcases, the windows with the right exposure for bonsai, locations where aquariums could go.   
  
When he showed her the large master suite, and started on the three other bedrooms, she finally let out a long laugh.   
  
"What are we going to do with all these bedrooms, Grissom? Set each one up as a different type of bug habitat?"   
  
"No," he said, drawing her to the window. Standing behind her, he pointed out a shape just visible in the dying light. "See the outbuilding? Next to the garage? It has its own heating and air. I figured I'd use it for my bugs and experiments. Keep them out of your hair," he quipped, tracing a finger along the back of her neck.   
  
She chuckled as she looked in the direction his other hand was pointing, noticing a small swimming pool and fenced-in backyard.   
  
"We could get a dog," he added hopefully when he saw her checking out the enclosure.   
  
She smiled and leaned back against him. His enthusiasm was catching, and the idea of a dog was nice, but the house was more than they needed.   
  
"So, what would we do with all these bedrooms?" she repeated, laughing softly.   
  
"That depends on you."   
  
"Oh?"   
  
Grissom slipped his hand to her abdomen, then lowered it slowly.   
  
"It depends on how many kids you want to have," he said hesitantly.   
  
Sara stared out into the night, blinking her eyes in confusion. Did he just say what she thought he said? After all his anxiety whenever the subject was mentioned, he just suddenly brought it up? Life with him was going to prove interesting.   
  
"When you're ready. I don't mean right away. I'm not trying to rush things," he spurted out, shifting nervously behind her.   
  
She kept her gaze out the window, feeling his muscles tensing. The corners of her lips twitched as she recognized his anxiety as he waited for her answer. It pleased her that he wanted to share a future with her, but she was still shocked by the bombshell he'd dropped. Two could play at this game.   
  
"Gee, I don't know Grissom. There're only three extra bedrooms," she said seriously.   
  
She suppressed her laughter when she felt his slight start before he turned to stare at the bedroom.   
  
"Well, this room is too small, but the others are big enough for bunk beds. And we could always convert the den to another bedroom."   
  
"That didn't even faze you," she said in amazement, turning to face him.   
  
"Well, it's not likely to be a concern," he said, wrapping his arms around her. "Unless you have a couple sets of triplets."   
  
"No way! If we even have one set of triplets, you're getting fixed and never touching me again!"   
  
Grissom chuckled as he pulled her closer, kissing her softly.   
  
"I take it the thought of our having a family is acceptable? In time," he added quickly.   
  
"In time," she sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. "Did the agent give you any idea how long we can wait before we have to make an offer?"   
  
"She said there weren't a lot of people looking in this neighborhood. It's not convenient to any of the shopping malls. I told her I didn't think that would be a problem for us."   
  
Sara chuckled at that understatement. Pulling out his embrace, she headed back down the stairs. This was a major decision, but he seemed to have his heart set on this house.   
  
"Am I rushing things?" he asked nervously.   
  
"No. Let me think about this for a little bit. And I've got to go, or I'll miss my plane."   
  
"I know. If you don't want this place, there are plenty of others on the market."   
  
"It's not that. I like the house, even if it a bit big. All of this is a major step. We're talking lifetime obligations here. That's not something I want to make lightly."   
  
"I know. I've thought about that," he said, taking her hand as they walked down the front steps. "I'm tired of being alone, Sara. I want to be with you, to have a family. I've wasted too much time; we could have been happy together all this time."   
  
"You don't know that. If the timing wasn't right, it wasn't right. If you weren't ready for a relationship, it probably would have ended badly. Don't worry about it, babe. You came to your senses in time," she teased, giving him a passionate kiss.   
  
"Thank you. For understanding. For waiting for me."   
  
"I should be thanking you."   
  
"How about we call it even before you miss your flight?"   
  
"Sounds good," she said, giving him a last kiss before heading to her rental car, Grissom's arm wrapped around her shoulder.   
  
"Hey, Grissom," she called out before driving away. "When I get back, let's go ahead and store your bugs at my apartment and list the townhouse for sale. The settlements will take time. Go ahead and make an offer on this place. We don't want to wait until it's too late," she said with a wink.   
  
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Finis ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 


End file.
